


Hellgate

by cedi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Death, Demons, Dwarves, Elves, Evil Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, F/F, Racism, Self-Hatred, University, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedi/pseuds/cedi
Summary: Pride and folly have torn the world asunder, opening doors for evils beyond the understanding of man and toppling the world into an age of darkness. As the world rung with the screams from a thousand voices a call went out. A call for all brave souls to stand tall against the onslaught of darkness and hate. A call that was answered by the best and brightest fighters and mages the world has seen so far, and while many of them would live to become legends, would reclaim the lands lost to the beyond, they still proved to be unable to close the rifts once and for all.Therefore they formed an organisation from the best of all races tasked to watch over the tears wherever they may appear and repel the beasts from beyond. They named it: OverwatchNow that the old guard is retiring the time has come for a new generation to take up the mantel. Though unlike their predecessors they would not go in unprepared, no, they would receive the best possible education possible at Overwatch University.Join a young Angela as she forges her way through this prestigious institution to become one of mankind's greatest defenders.





	1. A New Beginning

“Bzzzt” I let the alarm clock ring exactly once before I turn it off with a heavy hand. I hadn’t really needed its annoying wakeup call as I had been lying awake for the last hour or two, but turning it off before it could complete its purpose just felt wrong somehow, like a bad omen in the making.

I quickly get out of bed, not following this dangerous train of thought, and grab the clothes I had laid out the day before--I had prepared as much as possible to alleviate my anxiety--and hurry to the bathroom for a very quick shower. I release a soft sigh when the first few drops of soothing, warm water patter down on my golden tresses. Hot showers are truly a marvel; I have no idea how we managed without them before we moved to our new home in Central City. I really hope that they will have them at the academy, or otherwise they will have to deal with a grumpy, stressed out Angela for the first few months, not something fun to be around according to my mother.

I stumble out of the stall the second all the soap is completely rinsed out of my hair and put on the simple but brand new tunic and trousers I had brought with me to the bathroom, but not before turning back to the shower and making doubly sure that I had really turned the heaters off. The mana crystals powering the house are expensive, even for my family, and there would be hell to pay if I forgot to do so, again... Getting told off by my parents would be an auspicious start to this new chapter of my life. Not.

“Angela, are you awake?” My mother calls from the kitchen on the floor below. “Your breakfast is ready!”

“Yes, I’m up!” I shout, leaning over the wooden banister--unconcerned with waking anyone else as I had heard my father showering a good while before--and hop down the stairs, taking two steps at once. My mother greets me at the kitchen door, her slightly greying, blond hair seemingly glowing from the light of the rising sun which already shines brightly through the pair of windows in the small room even at this early hour. Autumn was still a good ways off.

“What did I tell you about running on the stairs, young lady?” My mother asks sternly, pointing a wooden spatula accusingly at me.

“Not to do it,” I answer contritely while staring at the tips of my socks.

“And why shouldn’t you do it?” My mother digs deeper, clearly unsatisfied with my brief answer.

“Because the wood of the steps is slippery and I could fall and break my neck.” I quickly oblige, knowing from painful experience that it was the fastest way to get this over with.

“Good,” She steps out of the way, grabs a ready-made plate heaped with food and hands it to me with a cheerful smile, “Here sweetie, eat up! You’re going to need your strength.”

I relieve her of the heavy plate with a mouthed thanks and sit down at the large, wooden table in the dining room--the small one, that is, my mother would have kittens if I ate in the large dining room and messed up the doilies, or something like that--and dug in.

The food was delicious, fresh bread delivered from the bakery down the street, eggs sunny-side-up and even some bacon. She really went all out for this.

Once I’m done with my breakfast I grab my empty plate and cutlery and make for the sink with the intention of cleaning the soiled crockery as I usually do every morning. I was always the last to leave the house at the start of the day, so me cleaning up after my hardworking parents is just fair. Though this time my mother swoops in before I can turn on the water and takes the plate unceremoniously from my hands.

“I’ve got this sweetie. Go and make sure you’ve got all your things packed and ready to go.”

I smile gratefully at my mom and hurry back up to my room where my luggage is still waiting for me. I’m so impatient that I take two stair steps at the time and almost sprint down the hardwood corridor leading to my room. In my hurry I’ve already forgotten the earlier reprimand from my mom and almost crash into my luggage as my socks fail to find purchase on the smooth floor. Luckily I barely manage to twist around and slip past the pair of heavy wooden trunks with their awfully sharp edges.

I exhale, feeling my heart race in my chest. Damn these floors really are dangerous!

Once my heart doesn’t want to jump out of my chest anymore I kneel down and open one of the wooden cases, only to realize that there really is nothing left for me to pack. The only thing I can do is move them down the stairs and over to the entrance of our home, all the while trying not to sweat too much or break my back in the process.

Without further delay I heft the first of the identical suitcases and lift it, or at least try to. It’s nearly too heavy for me.

I let out a girlish yelp when the immensely heavy trunk slips from my fingers the very moment I lift all corners completely off the ground. Which I quickly follow up with a second one when the hard case hits the ground with an awfully loud bang and falls over on its side.

Damn, maybe I had packed a tiny bit too much stuff, but all of it had felt absolutely essential a few weeks ago when I had filled the accursed things to the brim on the day after I had received my acceptance letter. After all, if I wanted to be the best then I needed to be prepared for anything the teachers would throw at me.

“Angie? Are you alright?” Dad asks from behind me, startling me from my thoughts. “Ah, you should have asked me to help you with them. They are a little bit too heavy for a young lady like you!”

“It’s alright, I can do this.” I retort through gritted teeth and right the fallen trunk. I was absolutely not going to be some “delicate”, weak flower that couldn’t even carry her own luggage! That just wouldn’t work, I’d be so ashamed if my future comrades would see me like that!

My father puts a soft hand on my tense shoulders, “Don’t be stubborn sweetheart! At least let me take them down the stairs. There is no reason to risk your neck just yet! There will be enough of that in the future!” He adds with his trademark crooked smile. “Your mother and I know how strong you are, there is no need to try to impress us.”

He is right of course, as he always is and so I relent. I step back from the heavy suitcases and instead busy myself with the few knickknacks I hadn’t packed. I will leave most of them behind--I barely ever look at the old letters and postcards anyway--but there is one item I want to take with me, a small piece of black rock with a glassy shine to it reminiscent of obsidian. The oval stone’s surface is littered with tiny, sparkling points of white looking to me like a fallen piece of the night-time sky. Its sparkle had caught my curious, young eyes years ago while playing at the small brook behind our old home and I had kept the large pebble ever since. First because it was a curious little trinket, the prized possession of a young girl and later because it reminded me of the vastness of the space above our heads; something I could cast all my worries and fears in knowing that they would never, not in a thousand years, find their way back to me.

I pocket the stone--my faithful companion over the long years--with a small smile and follow my theatrical groaning father out of my room, far more relaxed than any other time these last few weeks, the fingers of my left hand softly caressing the stone’s painfully familiar curves.

 

Since my ride to the academy will only arrive in about half an hour at the earliest, I leisurely climb down the stairs--trying to hold on to my semblance of calm for as long as possible--and sit down in the small sitting room my family uses most of the time. The old couch in here is far more comfortable than the elegant designer piece in the large sitting room and you could actually lean back without the fear of marring the fine silk cloth my mother just absolutely loves to drape over the back; probably to dissuade just that. Besides, this room is also one of the few in the large house that feel like someone actually lives here and isn't just some fancy display of one of those snobby, ridiculously overpaid interior decorators.

The small, ornate box of tea leaves standing on the wooden side table invites to stay a while and drink some tea, maybe while reading one of the well-worn, leather bound books that found their home in the sturdy bookshelf. And should you lose track of time and miss the sun diving below the horizon a crackling fire in the fireplace would offer enough light to continue the reading well past midnight.

Though this time I didn’t find the calm this room usually provides me with. Instead I lose most of it in the ensuing wait, driven out with each of the grandfather clock’s steady clicks. After a few minutes I can’t take it any longer and move to the kitchen to see if my mother needs my help with something--anything!--as long as it will distract me from my rampant nerves.

Though sadly, she has already finished with all the housekeeping tasks. The plates are stacked in neat rows in the dish drying rack and the pans are hanging from the hooks on the wall, shining like new. Damn!

Without anything to occupy my mind and hands with I resort to walk from one room to the next--always on the lookout for some busy work--until my incessant pacing drives my parents to their breaking point.

“Angela, please sit down!” My mother finally begs when I storm into her room for the fifth time in as many minutes, “I can’t concentrate on my work with you stalking around like a hungry tiger!”

“But mom I can’t just sit and wait!” I whine. “I’m way too nervous.” At that my mother turns around to me with her lips drawn into a kind smile--the same one she uses on the children she treats at the hospital--and speaks to me in a soothing tone of voice trying to allay my rampant fears. “But honey, you don’t have to be. You earned your spot at Overwatch University through a lot of hard work. You deserve to go there as much as anyone who has come before you.”

“Yes,” I knew that of course, I had worked like a woman possessed each and every day for the last few years and I had been home schooled by some of the best tutors in the city--only the royal family had better--but still.

“The teachers are going to love you!” My mother adds, apparently not satisfied by my lukewarm response and indecisive look. Her words of reassurance don't help much as this isn't the part that has me all in a tizzy. I know my own skill level very well and also know how to handle teachers--they are easy, just do what they want--but I never really had a handle on how to deal with other people of my age. There is just this disconnect between them and me, like they are in on some great secret that I'm just not aware of. Being a loner had worked well enough so far--it had gained me entrance to the premier university after all--but I just know that this wouldn’t work anymore in this new chapter in my life. Teamwork is big with them, if their flyers are to be believed, which means that I would need to make friends, or at least not completely turn them against me. A herculean task for me!

With a shake of my head I pull myself together and fake a somewhat convincing smile, “Thank you,” and quickly leave the room. She wouldn’t understand my fears, she is a social butterfly and always loves to have people around her, while I'm more like a moth, hiding in corners and doing my own thing, annoying people just by my presence.

For the last quarter of an hour of my wait I post myself in front of the tall windows next to the door, half sitting on one of my large trunks and stare out at the road, willing for time to run faster and slower with nary a thought in between.

“Dong, dong…” My head whips around when the grandfather clock in the small sitting room finally strikes the hour, announcing the arrival time for my ride. I nearly missed the whooshing noise of an opening gateway in the din of the clock but luckily it happened right in between two strikes of the brassy bell. My head instantly whips in the other direction--my neck protesting the treatment with a painful twinge--and stare at the sight before me with wide eyes. Whatever I had expected, it was certainly not the things I am seeing now. In the middle of the street powerful magic had ripped reality asunder, creating a large gaping wound to the astral plane from which a huge metal monstrosity rolls forth. The man made beast looks like the twisted child of a train engine and a horse drawn carriage. The front part is entirely made from iron and steel forced into the form of a huge steam engine, the powerful fire crystals at its front glowering menacingly like the burning eyes of a Riftbeast. Behind the boiler, metal is gradually replaced by softer, lighter wood, a material far better suited for the long cabin that could surely seat over sixty people.

The steam car comes to a slow stop in front of the house with a long, awfully loud whistle from its steam pipes.

I jump at the sudden appearance of a large hand on my shoulder and quickly look behind me, finding my father standing there with a strange smile on his face. “So I guess this is it,” he says quietly, almost like he is only talking to himself, “It feels like it was just yesterday when I held you in my arms for the first day.” Jup, he is.

“Well then,” He focuses me with a genuine smile. “Better get going then, wouldn’t want for them to have to wait for you!” He pulls me into a quick bear hug and then hands me off to my mother to do the same; though hers is a little bit looser than his.

Once my mother lets go of me, he hands me one of the trunks--the lighter one since I don't immediately fall over--and opens the door.

This is it.

I brace my shoulders and make doubly sure that I have a firm grip on the trunk and then step out of the house. And nearly stumble down the short few steps in front of the door in shock. There are so many people in the steam car! I hadn’t realized earlier--the glass besides the door had distorted the view to much--but there had to be a good two dozen people in there, maybe even more. Now the late arrival of my ride made sense, I must be one of the last new pupils they pick up today. Which I should have known as Central City is where the rich and powerful live, they wouldn’t dare to pick these people up early on when the ride would be the longest. Luckily for me most of the people in there must have experienced the “spectacle” of a pickup a dozen times and the novelty of it was long lost. Most of them just continue their conversation with their neighbours, not sparing their new surroundings a single glance. Only a scant few look out at me and one of them, an exotic--eh foreign--looking girl with brown hair and glasses even waves at me. My small, awkward wave back elicits a happy grin from her which lets hope bloom in my chest, maybe this friend thing wouldn’t be too hard after all.

With new surety in my step I walk off the porch and towards my future.


	2. Busloads

A future that nearly starts out with a black eye; then just as I'm reaching for the steam wagon’s door it is suddenly flung open from within. Something I'm completely unprepared for as I hadn’t spied anyone through the small glass window inlaid into the upper half of the door. Still, I somehow manage to avoid the crash with a quick sidestep. 

See, I'm not always that clumsy! 

And then promptly stumble over my own stupid feet and fall flat on my ass. Fuck! I had completely forgotten about the heavy weight dragging me down on my right side. At least I'm not alone here on the rough road, I've got the shattered remains of my dignity for company.

I tilt my head, can you glue dignity back together? 

“Oh, sorry lass!” A gravelly voice says from the doorway, taking me away from my silly musings; a quick glance reveals a dwarf standing on the last of the three steps leading into the wagon.

Oh, that's why I didn't see him coming. 

The man is as short as any of his race and just as brawny with bulging muscles that wouldn’t look misplaced on one of the prized bulls I had seen at the market. His wild look is completed by a mane of black hair hiding most of his scar riddled face, though the intimidating effect of it is somewhat mitigated by the apologetic smile on his rugged face.

“Here, let me help you up!” The dwarf says, offering me a leather gloved hand which I promptly grasp. I squeak in surprise when he pulls me upright with surprising force, somehow managing to get me back on my feet without any effort from my side even though I dwarf him--heh--by more than half a meter. Once back on my feet I pat my backside to remove the dust and gravel that is sure to be marring my bottoms--man was I glad that we live in one of the better parts of town or otherwise they would be a complete loss--and then I go for the trunk I dropped during my tumble. But before I can grasp its handle the dwarf waves me off and hefts the heavy trunk himself, lifting the piece of luggage as if it was a feather; as if I hadn't nearly given myself a hernia carrying that thing for a scant few metres. 

Maybe I should start lifting some weights. I'm sure the hospital has something light enough for a weakling like me. 

“Go on in, lass.” He adds as he hurries to the back of the wagon to stow my luggage in the baggage compartment, quickly followed by my father with my other trunk in hand.

With one foot on the stairs of the wagon I look back at my home, taking it all in for a last time as I wouldn’t be back for a good few months, not before winter break--hopefully--and wave to my mother who stands on the porch watching me go, then I climb the rest of the steps and slink into the dimly lit foyer beyond.

I ignore the door leading to the engine and instead go for the door to the passenger part of the steam car, only hesitating for a moment before opening it and walking through. On the other side of the doorstep I'm greeted by a good two dozen pairs of inquisitive eyes, and most of them are quite obviously appraising me, measuring my worth as a sister in arms. My left hand involuntarily grabs my other arm's biceps and I barely manage to avoid taking a step back from the weight of their stares, though from the nasty expression appearing on the nearest guy’s face I haven't been completely successful. 

Although, it is also in the realm of possibilities that his haughty demeanour doesn't have anything to do with my insecurities and more with the fact that I'm human. Then he and his neighbour--probably his brother by the family resemblance--are very clearly elves, their long, pointy ears plainly visible from under their ponytails. From what I've heard the elves’ disdain for the other races is a thing of legends, only rivalled by their almost religious adherence to their honour codes.

At this moment the brother of the snooty elf claps him on the shoulder and whispers something unintelligible into his ear, something that is very clearly about me considering his piercing glare that he pins me down with even now. 

I gasp slightly when the first elf's ornate, golden robe falls open a bit and reveals a number of tribal tattoos, the shock of seeing them enough to push me onward towards the back of the car. I don't know much about tattoos, but I had heard stories and seen images of these specific designs. They are only used by the eastern shoguns--warlords and criminals so powerful that they own entire countries--and their relatives and if I remember correctly the dragon motive gracing the elf’s chest is used by the Shimada clan, the worst one of the lot. 

I certainly can do without being on the bad side of those people--or on any of their sides at that--as that is a good way to get dredged out of a river’s bed.

What the hell are they doing here? I doubt they are in it for the whole saving lives and protecting the weak thing I have going on! 

Behind the pair of elves sit a bunch of jocks with powerful physics and boisterous attitudes to match, half of them showing me their backs as they listen to a giant of a man in rapt attention, apparently complete taken in by the tale he is so animatedly weaving, unperturbed by my arrival. Although the man would probably take offence at being called a giant; he is that tall. And that isn't overstating things in the slightest, the man with the golden hair and pearly white teeth is easily a head taller than the ogre sitting on the other side of the aisle.

I keep a good distance from the man-beast as I walk past him further down the aisle in search of a free seat, not because I have any dislike for the race but because the mask the ogre is wearing really fucking scary. All black leather, misshapen stitches, darkened lenses and accompanied by the sound of heavy, raspy breaths. Oh, god! I shudder slightly, he has turned his head in my direction, the black lenses flashing menacingly at me. I instantly put on some extra speed, almost stumbling in my haste to get away from that thing. Just as my gaze slips away from his form I do a double take. There is a rat like goblin pressed against the window by the beast’s massive girth. My heart immediately goes out to that poor creature, the smell alone… I don't even want to think about it. 

Next up are a pair of cowboys, the guy tips his Stetson at me in the fashion of the far west while the girl with the alabaster hair glares at me with a scathing look on her face that mars her otherwise pretty features. No idea what's her problem with me. 

I continue on past a dishevelled looking dwarf that is angrily muttering to himself, ignoring the free seat next to him and lay eyes on the girl that waved to me.

My face lights up when the girl smiles at me again and points at the open seat next to her, unmistakably inviting me to join her. I quickly do, more than glad that I don't have to sit by myself or next to one of the many scary people on this bus. Hell, I think I even saw a Drow cloaked in shadow at the back of the wagon, you have to be crazy to want to sit next to one of those maniacs.

“I’m Mei-Ling Zhou,” The brown haired girl greets me, offering me an elegant, seated half-bow, “What’s your name?”

“Angela Ziegler,” I answer with a smile and try my hand at mirroring her move. It probably looks even more awkward than I feel doing it. Damn, it looked so easy when she had done it. My clumsy attempt at courtesy elicits a girlish giggle from her, “It’s nice to meet you Angela! So what’s your expertise? You don’t look like one of those to me,” She points towards the jocks I had passed moments ago, then quickly adds, “Not that that is something bad, mind you!”

I nod, “Yes you guessed right. I probably can't even lift half of their weapons. I’m a Holy mage, a healer, or at least I have the powers to be one with enough training.”

Mei looks at me questioningly, “Aren’t they called Priests?”

“No,” I say and shake my head vehemently, “Priests also fight demons and other dark spawn. I don’t think I’m much of a fighter. I’d probably run away screaming if faced with those things! ” I admit. 

Mei waves me off, “I think you underestimate yourself, if you just wanted to be a healer then there must be at least a dozen other places you could have gone too, schools that don’t require at least some combat training to pass. You’re probably a lot braver than you give yourself credit for.”

“Mhm,” I just make a noncommittal sound and quickly change the subject, “And what about you? What are your skills?”

“I’m a frost mage,” The girl states with a puffed out chest. “I’d show you,” Mei adds with a crestfallen look, “But the drivers asked us not to use any magic during the ride that could interfere with the portal.”

“I didn’t think ice magic would mess with arcane portal magic,” I state in surprise, from what I know you need either arcane magic or really powerful other kinds of magic to distort a portal. 

Mei nods with a serious look on her face. “So did I, but I really don’t want to risk getting sent to the void by accident, or even worse get kicked out before I have even arrived.” She adds the last part with a quiet chuckle.

I don't get to ask my new--probably--friend anything else, as the friendly dwarf has apparently finished loading my luggage and has returned to the engine, which just came to life with a thunderous roar, accompanied by a powerful wave of mana that makes my hair stand on end.

“Ach, here we go again,” The elven woman on the other side of the aisle spits; the derision in her voice thick enough that even I pick up on it. “Why they let dwarfs of all things do this is beyond me. Bunch of amateurs, that lot.” The Hindu woman rants on. “Their shoddy work is giving me a migraine.” The last part is directed at the girl with the sharply cut features sitting next to her. “You are most certainly correct, my dear!” The pale elf answers, meeting my gaze with her two toned one. She keeps eye contact for a moment and then looks away with a sniff from her nose. 

I dislike the pair already.

Though only a few moments later I have to agree with them at least a tiny bit as the car suddenly lurches forward in a stomach turning way without so much as a warning. A second later we are past the expanding horizon of the portal and fall in every possible--and some impossible--directions at once. 

The awful, sudden feeling of being pulled apart by gravity and the sensation of a cold wind blowing past my innards catches me entirely off guard and I'm unable to stifle the girlish shriek passing from my lips. Luckily I'm not the only one unable to stop their expression of surprise and fear from escaping into the room. Therefore, my embarrassing cry was just one small part of the cacophony reverberating of the wooden walls and glass windows. After a moment, the sensation of falling fades to nothing which allows me to let go of the seat I have held onto with a vice like grip, and concentrate on my warped surroundings.

My tutors have told me a few things about the void: How it warps reality, suspends the laws of physics, how it abhors all life, all order, everything really, and how it just wants to rip everything to shreds; if it had a will of its own, of course. I didn't believe them, not completely at least. How can there exist such an inhospitable place and still be accessible from our domain? That just seems impossible, magic shouldn’t even be able to reach it if it is the all-consuming void they make it out to be, and that isn’t even considering how a person would survive long enough to take it all in. The idea of it is simply absurd.

I'll have to pen a letter with my apologies to them later, I think as I survey the insides of the wagon, trying to make sense of the things I'm seeing. The first curiosity I notice is the strange behaviour of distances: some of the seats seem kilometres away, their occupants no more than a fleck in the distance, while some appear to be much closer now, and others are even moving erratically while I'm looking at them. But the void’s effects on reality aren't just limited to the physical world, no, black veils have appeared between the seats, some of them star speckled like a piece of space ripped from the night sky while others are of the blackest black imaginable. 

The veils drift between the people like black clouds pushed ahead of a thunderstorm, seemingly slow and insanely fast at once.

I watch one particularly slow but fully opaque cloud move past my racist neighbours when suddenly the cloud flattens to a thin, black, mirror-like disk large enough to hide the ogre sitting at the front of the bus behind it. A heartbeat later its still surface starts to ripple, not unlike a pond during a summer shower, and a moment later a pair of alabaster white, lithe legs step out of the dark pool. The accompanying feet are clad in insane high-heels fashioned from bone and weeping tissue, that clack exactly like teeth would when they make contact with the floor. 

The rest of the woman appearing before me is just as terrifying as her gruesome shoes, tall with a powerful physique, her face all sharp angles and intense colours, her eyes glowing from within with a violet fire, her lustrous, black ponytail flanked by a pair of shiny, obsidian horns.

I watch her part her ruby red lips into a voracious grin, revealing the snake like tongue within.

“You’re not real! You are not real! You are not real!” I whisper to myself, repeating the mantra that always springs from my lips when she appears.

“Now, now, now! Is that a way to greet your oldest friend, darling?” The wicked demoness asks me, her face drawn into a mockery of hurt. “You wound me, Angela.” She grasps theatrically at her heart. 

Don’t talk to her! Don’t look at her! She’ll disappear if you don’t, like always. My eyelids fly shut.

“You know...  You really should get over yourself, and soon. You’re going to need my help sometimes in the future, and I might not be willing to give it to you if you continue to snub me like that.”

My hand dives into my pocket--I nearly rip the delicate cloth of my pants in my hurry--and I clutch the smooth stone resting there with all my strength; finding some form of solace in its familiar curves. 

I ignore the awful clacking of her shoes to the best of my ability, which turns out to be a mistake when I feel a weight settle on my lap and a pair of surprisingly cold arms wrap around my neck in a mimicry of a loving embrace. I gasp out in surprise, breathing in her smell of fire, brimstone and oddly enough roses in full bloom that follows her in a thick cloud, which makes my head feel strangely light.

Why is this happening now? I wonder in a state of muted panic. 

The demoness has appeared from time to time, ever since I was a young girl. The first time she has blinked into existence I screamed in fright at the spectre floating at the foot of my bed between the lone window and the small table, weakly lit by the moonlight shining through the wooden shutters. At the time she looked about as old as me back then, short--although still a fair bit taller than me--with tiny horns and barely noticeable fangs. But most importantly she was barely visible at the time, like a ghost or a mirage under the hot sun, a far cry from the solid thing that is currently weighing down my lap. 

Still, the initial appearance of the apparition scared me terribly. When my parents came for me--roused from their sleep by my fearful cries--I was nigh inconsolable for hours and wouldn’t sleep in my room for weeks, instead sneaking into my parent’s bed in the middle of the night. 

They believed my story without question--our previous home had been quite old and numerous generations had lived and died there, making a dark spirit inhabiting the house a fair likelihood--and sent for a priest the very next day to drive out the spectre and cleanse our home.

When the old village priest couldn't find anything it hadn’t been a reason to worry, they just assumed that I was woken up in the middle of the night by a bad dream that wouldn’t let go of me without one last scare. Neither did they worry when the creature made a reappearance a year later; after all, what child didn’t have a bogeyman they feared above all else. By the time that it might have worried them, when the demoness started to speak and appear more often I was already old enough to know that admitting to hearing voices and seeing things wasn’t something that led to joining the most elite group of defenders of the people, and so I kept the visitations to myself. 

Although, maybe I shouldn't have. Over the last few months the demoness grew in strength at an alarming rate, overtaking me in age when she, so far, has always trailed me by a few years, and even more worrisome the creature has become a physical entity that can actually touch me; though that too might just be my imagination playing tricks on me.

But her corporal state isn't the only way in which she displays her growing power, no, her visitations have also grown in number and length ever since I started preparing for Overwatch Academy. 

Just a year ago I didn’t need to fear her for a good two months after each visit but this grace period has shrunk ever since, culminating in the current state of near weekly visits from her.

As the demoness snuggles into me, caressing my leg with her horrible high-heels, streaking my legs with blood and scratching the back of my neck with her overly long and sharp, black nails I wonder if maybe I should visit an expert once I start at the academy. A place that trains their students to fight the worst enemies all of life has ever seen just has to have a counsellor adhering to the Healer’s Oath.


	3. A New Passenger Approaches

We remain in this caricature of a lover’s embrace for what feels like an eternity, her “petting” me--At least her little nibbles, rubs and scratches could be construed as petting if they weren’t just a tad bit too forceful to be comfortable--and me rubbing my worry-stone like I'm trying to light a fire by friction alone. Though, while my fingers are almost flying over the smooth surface of the curious stone, the rest of my body is as still as a statue. I know from painful experience that she will seek revenge if I push her away, and while she might not be able to do me any serious harm, she has proven to be quite creative with her punishments, mixing physical torment and psychological terror freely. The last time, for example, she laid in wait for weeks before appearing just as I stepped out of a carriage in the middle of an early thunderstorm. Her sudden arrival scared me so badly that I slipped on the wet cobblestone and fell face first into the mud and refuse lining the kerbside of the road.

Another time she snuck up on me while I was taking a very relaxing shower, ripping aside the shower curtain and barking at me in a very convincing rendition of my mother. 

Ever since then I have stuck to cold showers.

 

My racing thoughts are suddenly brought to a screeching halt as I feel her hot breath and soft, wet lips caressing my ear.

“Mhm, wasn’t that nice,” The demoness moans into my ear, making me squirm from how lustful her slightly hoarse voice sounds, “but now it’s time for me to go, I don’t really want to see what happens next. I mean I like many things,” I shriek in pain as her sharp teeth pierce the lobe of my sensitive ear, “But that’s not one of them! See you soon, sweetie,” she adds in a sultry mockery of my mother’s voice. 

The next moment she is gone.

My hand flies to my injured ear without a second's hesitation, my fingers kneading the hurt flesh in an attempt to get the memory of the pain out of my mind; then that is all it really is, an illusion, a trick of my mind. The soft flesh between my fingers bears no marks, no indication of the pain she inflicted on me; even though my mind tries its best to convince me to the contrary: that I'm bleeding horribly and that my fingers will come away coated with warm blood.

“Thank god,” I breathe with closed eyes when the echo of the pain finally begins to subside. The big exhale turns into a retch midway through as the physical world is suddenly turned inside out. If someone had told me at the beginning of the trip that the worst is yet to come, that there is a worse feeling than the one of falling in all directions at once I wouldn’t, couldn't have believed them; now I do. 

The realisation of this truth is accompanied by a second retch, which turns into full blown vomiting as the sensation of getting turned inside out and being compressed from all directions intensifies. 

Apparently we have reached our next stop.

“M sorry,” I mumble dazedly as the world finally returns to its normal state.

“Don’t be,” Mei giggles, “I should have warned you! But I forgot, sorry.”

I finally open my baby blues and look at her with glazed eyes. I blanch and gasp in shock when my vision finally clears enough for me to make her out and I realise that the sweet girl--a possible friend, maybe even--next to me is covered head to toe in my barely digested breakfast. 

I pat my pockets down with fretful hands, searching for a tissue, all the while knowing that it was a lost cause. She’ll probably have to burn her nice sweater after this as the delicate, white cloth is probably irrevocably stained, it probably couldn’t even be used as a rag after this. 

Well done Angela! Excellent move! Now she'll hate me for sure. You had a friend for an entire twenty minutes, a new record! 

“Hey, it’s no harm done,” Mei says, sounding quite sincere for someone in her situation.

“But your clothes?” I stammer out, aghast, “They’re a mess!” 

“Not for long,” Mei smiles at me, pointing at the largest patch of vomit, which is slowly vanishing before my eyes. What the…?! 

“Neat, right? There is a cleaning enchantment on this bus.” The brunette exclaims, then adds a joke to try and lighten the mood, “I guess they tallied up how much the cleaning would cost and then just decided it would be cheaper to put an enchantment on the bus.” I fake a laugh as best as I can in my current mood, enjoying the sentiment if not the joke itself.

“Oh god, that was horrible,” I moan, “Is it as bad every time?” God, if it is I might just join the elves next to me in their racism--Bad Angela! I’m sure they are doing their best, they can’t enjoy this either, can they? Still…

“No,” Mei shakes her head. “It’s like the first time eating blubber, stomach-turning chewy at first, but once your body gets used to the experience it’s actually quite nice.” 

“Good!”

“Actually,” Mei whispers close to my ear, which makes me flinch, “I’ve heard certain people find it quite “exhilarating”, especially elves.” She even makes goofy air quotes with her finger as she says “exhilarating” to make sure that I will get the idea. 

I glance over at the elves on the other side of the aisle--happy for anything that will take my mind off my queasy stomach, even gossip--but the two girls over there are only sticking their heads together, whispering angrily and shooting nasty looks at the front of the wagon; not a shred of arousal in sight.

I look back at Mei, one eyebrow arched.

The girl in question lifts her hands defensively and says, “Hey, it’s just something I heard at the Watchpoint, it might just be some off-coloured joke.” She pauses for a second, tapping one finger absentmindedly against her chin. “Now that I think about it… Actually that’s most likely the case.” She scrunches her face up, “Sorry.”

I wave her off without a comment, my interest sparked by something else she has stated. “You visited a Watchpoint?”

Mei moves her head in something between a nod and a shake. “I lived there for a while; at Watchpoint Antarctica. After the Northstar incursion, have you heard about it? I think it was pretty big news, even around here?” I nod, I have devoured every shred of information about Overwatch, including all the monsters they have sent back to the void and the Northstar was a particular powerful one of them. “Wasn’t that this really powerful ice drake who buried an entire Watchpoint below a hundred metres of snow and ice?"

“Yes, although it was actually a frost spectre that formed and possessed a dragon like body made from ice. Eh, but I digress.” She rights her glasses and continues her tale, “After it was discovered that the Watchpoint had fallen my parents--they are some of the best frost mages in the known world--and some others were called in to deal with the incursion and investigate the fate of the Antarctica fortifications.”

“Frost? Not fire mages?” I interrupt the brunette, my voice high in surprise.

Mei nods, “Yes, trying to kill a demon like Northstar with fire especially that close to the poles is like trying to douse a forest fire with a bucket. Even the best pyromancer would die of exhaustion long before they so much as melted a single limb. The cold is just too extreme and the terrain offers a ton of cover to anything and anyone who isn’t bothered by the cold. Anyway, my parent’s group managed to deal with the demon by shattering its body and banishing the weakened spectre to the void afterwards.”

“That must have been scary, watching your parents leave to fight a demon and not knowing if they’ll make it back.” I shudder slightly at the thought. The worst danger my parents have ever faced was a particularly aggressive strain of a magical disease and even still I prayed every night for their safe return, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how Mei must have felt. 

The girl nods sadly, “Yes, it was really bad. I barely ate, couldn’t sleep and missed a lot of school… When my parents finally returned they said that it hadn’t been that big of a challenge, I believed them at the time. I guess I just really wanted to believe that they were that strong, that they would always return. A few months later some colleagues of theirs revealed to me that in truth it had been a really close thing, that some of the team were still in the hospital and might never have a normal life again.”

Mei looks so small and lost in that moment, her thoughts clearly very far away submerged in those dark memories, that I want to give her a hug. But I'm unsure if that is acceptable, do people that just met do that? Instead of going out on a limb I opt for the safer route and just put a hand on her shoulder and smile kindly at her. 

The girl shakes herself visibly and returns my smile with one of her own, although hers carries a bit of a shaky touch. 

“After the fight with the demon my parents returned for a week to rest and recuperate, and then left again to search for the missing Watchpoint. It took them quite a while to find it as Northstar made pretty much all of their maps obsolete. All the markers they had used in making them had simply vanished, as had the man made signposts. As a result they had stumbled around the frozen wastelands for weeks before finding a clue that pointed them in the direction of the missing fortress. When they arrived at its presumed location they only found an endless stretch of flat ice.” She makes a pause to build anticipation that has me sitting on the edge of my seat, even though I already know how the story ends. 

“It took them another week to realise that their elevation was a good hundred metres higher than it should be. Once they did, they had their seeker search the depths for magical traces--so far they had only searched the surface--and he immediately found some far below their feet, buried beneath numerous metres of rock hard ice.”

“They dug a tunnel, right?” I ask, trying to remember how exactly the whole thing went down.

Mei nods, “Yes, but not before they returned to HQ to inform them about the development. There was no point in hurrying the excavation, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that anyone would survive an attack like that, or being buried in the snow for weeks. Overwatch decided to rebuild the fortress there as the rift was still a danger, even if it was buried below tons upon tons of ice and snow. And, obviously, my parents were sent out again. Though HQ didn’t have much of a choice in that matter as too many of their frost specialists had perished in the attack on the Watchpoint or were out of commission due to the fight with the demon.” She pauses for a moment, her hands solemnly folded in her lap.

“I was at this curios age where you are too young to be left to your own devices but too old to be denied to accompany my parents; after all the danger had mostly passed. And since I had suffered so badly from their prolonged absence they decided I should come with them to the frozen wasteland. Which I did. I stayed there for a few years, at first helping with the excavation and later living there, my parents a part of the garrison staffing the fortress.”

“Wow, so you weren’t kidding when you said that you were a frost mage. You must have learnt lots working together with Overwatch professionals.” I gush excitedly. I would have loved an opportunity like that. All my parents let me do was help the nurses some, and even then only with the menial tasks.

Mei does that half-nod thing with her head again, “Drilling a tunnel into ice doesn’t require a lot of skill or precision, so I mostly just used the things my parents showed me beforehand. Though the Overwatch agents stationed there did show me a few tricks later on, once the fortress had been excavated and things had settled down a bit.”

I nod along with her, wishing that my parents had shown me some spells too, but sadly they had always insisted that I was too young to deal with arcane powers. I guess their work at the hospital has jaded them somewhat against hormonal teenagers using magic… So I only know a scant few Holy spells, one to accelerate the body’s own regeneration, one to stop bleeding and one to create a globe of light I can carry around in my hand. The first one I learned by watching my parents, the second one they taught me themselves--the ability to stop even serious bleeding to lifesaving to be withheld--and the last one I taught myself from books, so that I can continue reading in the middle of the night without my parents noticing. 

For a moment I wonder where I would be standing right now if my parents were as open as Mei’s. Then I quickly reprimand myself for my jealousy.

Before I can think of a response to her words the passenger cabin’s door is flung open from the outside with enough force to send it crashing into the wooden wall next to it. A second later a girl struts in like she owns the place, her head held high and every one of her long-legged steps exuding the confidence I find myself so sorely lacking. The stranger’s violet cape flutters behind her, revealing an athletic body clad into tight fitting gear that adheres to the same colour scheme as the cloak: black and a deep violet. A colour scheme that matches her darker complexion exceedingly well.

The aloof girl doesn't so much as glance at the people lining the aisle, instead she just focuses on the end of the wagon and swaggers down the path towards one of the still free seats. Only when she approaches us--Mei and me--does her gaze drop, her intense eyes meet mine and hold on to them tightly. 

I suddenly feel hypnotised, completely under the spell of her piercing gaze. As our eye contact holds on and on my heart starts to race and my fingers turn sweaty. 

I feel like I could faint any moment, like the hard seat could vanish at any moment from under me and I would fall all the way through the car’s floor to the dark beyond. Honestly, it feels not unlike the way the portal felt on my first trip through. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but couldn’t be more than a few seconds she broke our eye contact, but not before winking at me with a sly smile on her glossy, dark-violet lips. I gasp in shock and quickly turn away, partly because of the blush that spreads across my face and down my chest and partly because of the violet glow that I'm pretty sure I have seen peeking past her long eyelashes.

I glance down at my hands that grip at my knees with enough force to turn my fingers white. Could it be her? 

I take a quick glance at the retreating back of the girl, noticing the sway of her hips and how tightly her black leather pants hug her behind. A quiet, satisfied chuckle falls from her lips and the flash of a single dark eye in a compact mirror sends me reeling back, the sudden movement almost enough to send me to the wooden floor in a confused, hot heap.

God, it has to be her! Only that demoness has this effect on me, but how can she appear twice in one day? She never was able to do that before! Has she been fooling me, playing the long game all this time? But to achieve what? Catching me off guard this one time? That doesn't really seem to be worth it. But what do I know about demons and their motivations. 

Before my racing thoughts can spiral out of control completely they are interrupted by a quiet hem.

I look up from my hands and at Mei sitting next to me, one eyebrow arched in an unspoken question. “Soo...“ She begins, then pauses as a number of emotions quickly flash over her face. Finally she starts up again, finishing her question, “Do you know her?”

I shake my head, not completely trusting my voice.


	4. Royalty, royalty everywhere...

Seeing the sceptical look on her face I clear my throat, “Honest, I’ve never seen her in my entire life.” I assure her, my gaze drifting of her face, slowly drawn to the enigmatic woman sitting somewhere behind us. But as soon as those words have completely left my mouth I realise something important and whip my head back around to the new friend sitting next to me. “Wait, what, you can see her too?” I ask wide-eyed.

Mei cocks her head and giggles, “Of course silly. Though maybe not as intensely as you.” She adds the afterthought with a sly smile on her face. 

I don't notice if she says anything else after that, as I, instead of listening to her, concentrate on the myriad of thoughts running wildly through my head. If others can see her too, then it can't be her can it? She never appeared to someone else before and I’m sure she wouldn’t have waited this long to do that. Also, I notice belatedly, she has interacted with the physical world when she entered the bus. I clearly saw Mei flinch at the loud bang the collision of wood against wood made. Which means it couldn’t be her, right? My imagination isn't that powerful. 

My head slowly swivels around, the unconscious movement mechanical, as if forced by some mind controlling spell until I can see the tanned girl casually lounging on the seat a few rows behind ours, black booted feet thrown over the backrest of the next bench row. She smiles wryly at me and gives me a jaunty two finger salute, her slightly violet toned eyes dancing with mirth. 

My staring is suddenly interrupted by a hand waving before my eyes. I gather all my willpower and wrench my gaze of the strangely magnetic girl and finally register Mei’s worried words. “Angela, Angie, hello? Are you listening?” 

I nod dumbly, then gather my wits about me and try to overplay my moment of stupor, “Ah, yes, of course, I agree with you!”

“You haven’t heard a word I said, haven’t you!” The girl states in a matter of fact way with a stern expression on her face, which might have been believable if it hadn’t been for the obvious twitching of her lips. A moment later her serious expression shatters in a fit of giggles, “I guess it’s not only bad boys I can’t compete with.” The girl states in between spurts and bursts of laughter. 

Seeing my confusion at her words--probably some kind of an inside joke from the Watchpoint?--Mei quickly sobers up and puts a hand on my knee, leaning slightly into my personal space, something I'm still not a hundred percent comfortable with. Though I don't say anything about it as I don't want to rebuke my first real friend. 

“I’m okay with it, promise!” Mei tells me with a kind smile, only furthering my confusion. “Believe me, that’s nothing compared with the stuff I had to roll with at the Watchpoint. Though, still, I do hope that the walls at the University dorms are a bit thicker than the ones inside the Antarctica stronghold.”

I nod in fervent agreement, happy to finally understand something. I have seen some things during my stint as an assistant nurse that I’d rather forget if I could. Though I'm quite sure that some of the images are burned into my retinas for the rest of my life. 

I'm just about to explain as much, maybe even tell one or two of the less gruesome stories when the front door opens again, although with a lot less force than the last time. Apparently we must have jumped another time while I was distracted.

“See, that was easy, wasn’t it?” Mei squeezes my knee and then leans past me eager to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals.

I look past her leant over form out the window and gasp at the sight before me, instantly understanding my friend's excitement. The portal has deposited us in front of the huge palace at the heart of Central City, the home of King Morrison and the royal family!

I whip my head back towards the entrance just in time to watch the new arrivals enter the cabin. I recognise the two boys in front immediately, my gasp drowned out by a dozen others just like it. They are the two crown princes Jack and Gabriel of the Morrison and Reyes families respectively. 

The Morrison family have reigned over Germany for over five hundred years and under their rule the kingdom has prospered unlike any other kingdom in the greater region. Through their benevolent guidance the arts, sciences and magic flourished without peer across all of Germany and especially in Central City, the crown jewel of the kingdom. A city that didn’t exist until a hundred years ago, when the grandfather of Jack stomped it from empty ground. A city that is now the foremost place for… pretty much anything, honestly. Which was the reason for our--my parents and I--move away from our ancestral home in the small duchy near the southern border of the kingdom.

The second young man, an elf with slightly darker complexion, is the crown prince of Aragon, one if not the best ally of our great nation and, if gossip has it right, Jack’s best friend.

The pair of them are striking in their resplendent clothes tailored from the finest cloth and leather available, and which sport countless small jewels glimmering in the light of the sun. Their splendour only outmatched by the small, jewelled circlets gracing their heads and marking them as crown princes.

“Grüss Gott, Jack, Gabriel. Setzt euch zu uns!” The blonde hulk bellows. His boisterous call making the window panes rattle.

Prince Morrison tilts his head regally to the huge man, “Of course Reinhardt, it’s good to see you.” He turns to Gabriel and motions for him to move, he uses the movement to whisper something into the other prince’s ear that makes his stoic smile twitch. Something that probably isn't very nice. My parents have told me, in strict confidence, of the snobbery of the upper class and how they look down on people that still speak the barbaric German language instead of one of the more enlightened and civilised ones. 

Which means that the blonde hulk probably heralds from the Kingdom of Bavaria, the only court that still speaks the language regularly. Though he can't be a prince then as the kingdom is ruled by the great Balderich von Adler, a powerful fighter that had yet to settle down and produce an heir. 

So Reinhardt is most likely just the son of one of the noble houses, maybe not even the first born. Though that is unlikely, I highly doubt that the two princes would bother to remember his name if he isn't at least the heir to a noble house. 

The pair sits down next to Reinhardt on the seats that have until now been occupied by some of the other jocks, who have now moved a row further down the bus, making space for their betters without being asked to. 

When they sit down they have to pull the tails of their long coats out of the way. The elegant movement reveals the sheaves of the swords they carry. Jack’s is encrusted in diamonds and precious metals, glittering in the soft light in the cabin, while Gabriel’s is a far more simple and utilitarian affair, lacking in any non-functional adornments. Still, the dark leather and black metal of his simple sword holds a predatory beauty all of its own.

Once the princes have settled I notice the two girls, no, princesses, that have stepped into the cabin after them. They are very clearly true daughters of the Amari family. The very family that rules since Aeons past over the Empire of Egypt and whose daughters are the only ones carrying the Mark of Ra, an enchantment of immense power that, according to legend, was gifted to the daughters of the royal family by the Sun God himself as a token of gratitude for their devotion to the light. 

It is said that the women carrying this symbol can see through all illusions, flesh and bone to the soul below and judge the people in their gaze according to the sins they carry. Furthermore it apparently gives them a unique connection to the light, bestowing them with greater power and control over the cleansing energies, making them some of the most powerful Paladins in existence.

I watch the pair walk down the aisle, the crown princess Ana lightly touching Jack’s shoulder in passing while her sister, Princess Fareeha just nods at him. They have most likely stayed at the royal palace since the royal visit a few months ago.

By now the amazement at seeing the enchantment in real life has waned somewhat and I let my gaze move from their eyes. Heat enters my face and upper chest immediately as I note their clothes, or the massive lack thereof. The two young women are clad in extremely scanty garments that only hide their groin and breasts, leaving the rest of their toned and bronzed bodies in sight.

“That, that…” Mei whispers, clearly searching for words to describe the sight in front of them, “is pretty racy.”

“I’ve read that the followers of Ra consider it shameful to hide their bodies from the eye of their god. Something that only someone with a stained soul would do out of fear of his burning gaze, and that apparently counts double for their Paladins.”

Mei sits back and looks at me with big eyes. “You mean to tell me they fight dressed like this?”

“Dunno,” I shake my head, “But in the drawings I saw in one of my books they wore golden armour.”

Mei nods with a thoughtful expression on her face, “That makes sense. Gold looks a bit like the sun, they probably consider it holy.”

“Still, those undergarments can’t be comfortable.” The girl says as we watch the pair of them sit down behind the two elven women who are currently staring daggers at the back of Gabriel. 

I nod in quiet agreement. Their underpants are held up by a pair of golden clasps that sit just above their hip bones and that cut into their golden flesh an awful lot. Something they probably have to do to keep from slipping under the weight of the two wide, blue ribbons hanging all the way down to their ankles in between their legs at the front and back of their bodies. 

The tight chest wraps look just as bad.

“They wouldn’t survive ten minutes in my home.” Mei grins.

Which reminds me, “You aren’t some kind of princess where you are from, right?”

The girl laughs gaily at that, “Luckily not!”

I raise an eyebrow at her, “You wouldn’t want to be a princess?” My question is met with fervent nodding, “At the Dragon’s Court? No way! The girls there are barely better than bargaining chips, chess pieces to be pawned off for the slightest advantage for the empire.” 

“Really?”

Mei nods again, a serious expression on her soft features. “There is barely anyone above a count that doesn’t have at least one of the Dragon Princesses in their families. In fact many of the lords themselves are married to one of the imperial princesses. A really bad move, if you ask me.”

I cock my head to the side, “Why so? Don’t they get an alliance with the empire out of it and even a claim to the imperial throne? The Empire is patriarchal, right?”

Mei bobs her head, “Yes, but there are hundreds of princesses.” She must have seen my sceptical look, as she quickly adds, “Honestly! The court is huge. The nobles in the Dragon Empire are all elves, and so far not one of them has died of old age. Which is also why marrying one of them is such a bad move for a lord. Half elves are pretty much infertile and only have maybe twice the lifespan of a normal human. So after the lord dies, his half elf children won’t have children themselves, and once they die the queen mother will lay claim to the throne.”

“Wouldn’t the other nobles in the realm contest that claim?” I wonder, I can't imagine that any human, a noble at that, would step back and let an elf take up the reigns.

“And risk incurring the wrath of the Dragon?” She laughs unamused, shaking her head, “They wouldn’t dare. No one would honour a defensive pact in that moment, as even if they manage to repel the Legions of the Dragon the realm would fall into civil war weeks later, once the nobles prove incapable to agree on a new ruler.”

“I can see that,” I agree slowly, “Though I didn’t know that about half elves. I always thought they were a lot more similar to full elves than humans.”

The girl frowns sadly, “Maybe to us. To elves not so much. Apparently, to them they look like misshapen mutts and many of them have serious health conditions and deformities. There is a reason why there aren’t any half-breed cities or nations.”

I solemnly look at my hands, remembering snippets of conversations between my parents and their colleagues. My parents usually invited them to our house at the end of each month for drinks and games, and while I'm not allowed in the room, I have always tried to sneak into the kitchen and eavesdrop on them through the food elevator. Which works surprisingly well as long as they forget to close the sliding cover over it.

Sadly, their conversations aren't that interesting most of the time, just gossip and such things. Though from time to time they talk about an especially difficult case that has appeared in the hospital that month, and while a lot of them are caused by gruesome accidents--I shudder at the thought of the poor man that got pulled into a crushing mill, I couldn’t eat ground beef for weeks after that story--some were about half elves and the cruel chronic issues that torment them: Skin that will tear like old silk, wounds that won't stop bleeding and congenital mana addiction, just to name a few.

 

The sombre subject has darkened the atmosphere a good bit, neither one of us willing to continue our conversation for the moment, leaving us to our thoughts.

So I'm pretty startled when her excited call pulls me free from my sombre thoughts some minutes later. 

“We are almost here!” I quickly look up from my lap and at my friend next to me, whose face is currently pressed against the window pane in a desperate bid to catch a greater sight of the university grounds in the distance. Excitedly I follow suit, letting my gaze roam over the many great towers and gleaming spires in the distance.

“Why didn’t they portal us closer to the academy?” I wonder aloud, though not unhappy with the chance to see more of the foremost university in the entire known world. My question is met with a put on snort coming from the other side of the aisle. I roll my eyes even before the redheaded elf can utter a single one of her scathing words.

“As if dwarfs could handle the intricacies of the myriad different magical influences that exist on the university campus. The very thought is laughable. Isn’t it dear?”

“Ridiculous, the very thought of it!” The Indian elf agrees, “These amateurs probably can’t even grasp the First Law of Mana Convection.” Her spiteful words are immediately followed by a burst of hyaena-esque laughter.

Those two... I shake my head, hopefully I won't share too many courses with the pair. Ignoring their nerve fraying laughter I turn back to the subject at hand and gaze back out the window and the wonders beyond. I try to burn all the little details before me into my memory so that I can describe the academy precisely to my parents in my first letter. 

To my discontent the steam powered bus drives towards the gates at an insane speed--at least twice, if not trice, the speed of a horse drawn carriage--which gives me little time to admire the tall, white walls demarking the grounds or the vivid vines that weave colourful patterns on their trellises.

I lose sight of the pretty view when we drive through the gate leading to the heart of the campus. Although I'm not too saddened by it, as the gate reveals itself to be an impressive sight. The thing must have cost a king’s ransom, forged from Orichalcum and imbued with so much holy magic that I can feel its aura scorch my skin when we drive under it. 

Moments later I hear a pained exhale coming from the back of the cabin. When I turn around my searching gaze is immediately met by a pair of golden eyes at the very back of the carriage. The Drow! Of course! I look at her with sympathy. They are creatures of death, their bodies filled to the brim by the destructive force, a magic that is anathema to all that is holy. She probably experienced something far worse than the sudden burn I--a holy mage--have felt. A guess that is pretty much confirmed by her gritted teeth and the glimmer of unshed tears in her pretty golden eyes.

Suddenly, her eyebrows draw into an angry frown which, as I noticed a moment too late, is directed at me. I quickly look away from her. I guess she doesn't want my pity.

Next, my eyes fall on the two Egyptian princesses, which seem to literally preen in the afterglow of the academy’s defences.

I suppress a laugh and turn back to my friend, who has also observed the room. She meets my eyes with her own, mirth filled ones and whispers quietly. “I guess they enjoy the burn.” She wiggles her eyebrows, “Get it?”

I shake my head, by now I'm pretty sure that she isn't talking about the sun, holy light or something similar as obvious as that in these moments.

“You see,” She begins her explanation, “there were these two guys at the Watchpoint that caught each other’s eye and…” She didn’t get to finish her story as a moment later the door to the cabin is opened for a third time by the dwarf that I have seen in the morning.

“Everyone, get out of my steam car!” He orders good-naturedly and motions for us to move, which we quickly do. Though while everyone is in a hurry to get out of the car, all of us pay attention to the proper decorum of the moment, making sure not to hassle anyone of royalty or to cut them off. Which also means that we are pretty much the last to disembark, only the violet haired stranger and the Drow behind us.

At the steps I take the dwarf’s offered hand and smile at him, “Thank you Sir Dwarf!” and step into the brightly lit courtyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grüss Gott, Jack, Gabriel. Komm setzt euch zu uns! | Greetings, Jack, Gabriel, come sit with us!


	5. Registration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I switched the grammatical tense from past simple to present, as I decided it would fit better with the story I'm trying to tell. I also, updated all the other chapters to keep things consistent.

Outside the bus, I take a few moments to admire the beautiful courtyard they have deposited us in. The first thing I notice are the ornate buildings ringing the rotund plaza--probably the home to the administration and faculty of the university--quickly followed by the huge Overwatch emblem inlaid into the cobblestone below my feet.

I crouch down on one knee and trace my finger over the smooth marble of the circle, feeling the thrum of power bound to the symbol almost like a physical sensation. I lift my fingers up from the stone and rub them with my other hand in an attempt to get the tingling sensation out of it. What is this good for? This is a lot of power to throw around.

I overbalance when I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder, “Heya, chica! We need to go over there! They are waiting.”

Once I've caught my balance and prevented myself from an ungainly face plant I look up at the speaker. My gaze is met by a pair of purple eyes and a crooked smile. I stare at her for a moment, then realise what she is waiting for and grab her hand, letting her pull me to my feet. Which she does with surprising easy for her lithe frame.

“Thanks,” I say with a small smile once I'm upright again and let go of her soft hand. I turn around quickly and walk over to the front door of the largest building where Mei and the others from the bus are already waiting, the enigmatic girl right in step next to me.

Who is she? Her accent and use of language puts her into one of the southern kingdoms: Castile or maybe Asturias, but that doesn't completely mesh with the style of clothes she is wearing nor the tone of her skin. Strange. Though I’ll probably get more than enough time to get to know her closer. Her hands are very soft, and warm, lacking the distinct callouses of a sword fighter or archer. Which means that she probably is a sorceress. Chances are good that we will share some classes.

 

“What kept you?” Mei asks with a short side glance at me once I step next to her.

“I had to check out the sigil.” I point at the white and gold arch we are treading on. “Isn’t it awesome?” I gush.

The violet haired girl chuckles, “You are an excitable one, aren’t you?”

I glare at her, “Is something wrong with that?”

“Nah, es linda, amiga.” She states with a lazy smile on her violet lips. Violet? Did they always look like that?

“I have no idea what you said. But I’ll assume it was an apology.”

I turn back to Mei, who just followed the exchange with an amused smile on her face. “Are you guys done flirting?” My friend asks, smirking, “I think that man is just about ready to give a speech.” She points at the middle aged man that has appeared at the top of the stairs sometimes during my squabble with the other girl.

“I wasn’t flirting!” I splutter from the corner of my mouth. Trying to be quiet enough for the professor on the stair not to hear me. Though I guess his hearing is a lot better than I give him credit for, as his emotionless mask is replaced by a slightly disconcerted look. I guess he doesn’t care for the problems of teens. Can’t blame him for that.

Though I quickly realise that I might not be the thing he takes issue with, as his gaze never comes even close to me, instead he is focused on the main entrance far behind our group.

“What’s up?” Mei asks, also having picked up on the professor's strange mood.

I'm just about to tell her that I have no idea when I feel it.

“Oh god,” I moan and grab hold of the closest thing in my vicinity--which just has to be the southern girl, doesn't it? And why is she standing so close in the first place?--as otherwise I would have fallen over from the sick feeling suddenly pervading my body and leaving my knees weak and tummy queasy.

The girl immediately grabs my hip, holding me up and asks worriedly, “Qué está pasando contigo?”

I'm unable to answer her, even if I could understand what she said, too afraid that something more substantial than words will leave my mouth if I open it a bit too wide. Instead I try to turn around in her hold in an attempt to catch sight of whatever nightmarish thing has just entered the grounds and to find out what it did to make the universe scream out in pain and rage like that.

To my surprise there is no eldritch horror standing behind us, there is only a short girl with a windswept mop of brown hair and an embarrassed smile on her face.

“I’m not too late, am I? The girl asks with an obvious English accent.

I hear the professor let out a tortured sigh behind me, “No you are not, Lena. Though please refrain from twisting the space-time continuum outside of class. Some people around here are quite sensitive to magic and untrained to shield themselves from outside influences.

Lena quickly scans the small group before her with brown eyes, her gaze finally coming to rest on my unstable form. Her face turns into a mask of nearly comical horror and she quickly hurries over to me. “I’m so sorry luv! I was afraid that I was going to be late, so I did a little blink not thinking how it might affect you guys. Sorry!”

Although I want to rip into her for whatever she did to the poor universe I find myself unable to stay mad at her and the weaponised sad puppy dog look she shoots t at me. So, instead I do the next best thing, getting more information. “Blink?” I ask through gritted teeth, to prevent a repeat of my earlier stunt during the bus ride.

“Blink?” The girl echoes, confused at the sudden change in topic. “Ah!” She points at the glowing stone strapped to her chest, “This is a chronomatic source stone. I use it to compress my personal time so that my actions during the last few moments will happen all at once in the universal system.” She sheepishly scratches the back of her head, “People tell me it doesn’t feel very nice to anyone close to me. Sorry again.”

“It’s okay,” I mumble. Just, please don't do it again for the next hour, or year, or ever. But I can't force myself to utter the second part and shatter the hopeful look on her face.

“Very well!” The professor claps his hands to get our attention. “Since we are now all here, let me be the first to welcome you to Overwatch University! I’m professor Henric Prins and I’m the director of this esteemed hall of learning and the foremost combat training centre in the entire known world!” He falls silent for a moment and looks us over, “And I also want to congratulate you on getting accepted to the Overwatch Academy, no simple feat to be sure! After all, we only take the best. People like you that have distinguished themselves through your academic records, which have proven skill in combat that exceeds what is expected of your age by leagues, or that have displayed a propensity towards magic far beyond the usual.” He takes a long breath, letting his grandiose words echo in the silence.

 

I jump when I feel the violet haired girl next to me shift closer. “Or that have displayed the coin necessary to get accepted.” She scoffs, her words so quite that they are almost inaudible, just loud enough for me to hear.

I frown, and look around. I’m not sure who she’s talking about as all the people around here look capable. The jocks all look like they are in prime physical condition and the more unusual people had most likely some kind of ability that made them very useful for Overwatch. And I highly doubt that the Ogre has enough gold to buy his way in, and why would he do that in the first place. Everything I’ve heard about Ogres pretty much says that they aren’t exactly intellectuals and that they would rather eat a villager than save him from demons. Though that might just be the prejudice of the simple townsfolk. So far the Ogre hasn’t done anything that would justify that kind of racial bigotry.

That only left the royalty.

I look at the princesses standing at the front of our small group and chuckle under my breath. They had the necessary gold for sure, but only a fool would underestimate an Amari. They probably held blades before they could walk. And as for the princes… My parents had treated some of the palace’s staff, servants low enough on the totem pole that they don’t have access to the royal apothecary. People that just love to gossip, and they told my parents that the princes regularly train with the royal guard, who are second only to the Overwatch elite.

“You’ve done well!” The director finally continues, his gaining in force, “But all your achievements so far are not enough, they may have opened you this door,” He points at the large gate at the other side of the courtyard. “But none of them will get you one step further in here. Instead you will have to prove yourself every day. You will have to prove to us,” He opens his arms, encompassing us all, “and your comrades that you have what it takes to fight demons and the horrific creatures of the void. You need to show them that they can depend on you, that you will carry them through hell if necessary. Because only then, when we work as one body, when we can rely on every insignificant muscle and nerve to do exactly what’s need, only then will we stand victorious over our enemies.” He lowers his voice and looks at every last one of us with serious eyes, urging us to understand the weight of his words, “And if you find yourself unable to do that, know that there is no shame in admitting as much! If you doubt yourself, if your conviction is not strong enough, if you are not willing to die for the person next to you, then know that there is always a place for you at another top university. A single word from you and we will transfer you and all the credit you earned here over. And there will be no words of derision, no mockery or scorn, as to know your own limitations is to know wisdom.”

The next words almost explode out of his chest, “But! But if you don’t hack it and still cheat and lie your way through know that we will show you no Mercy! You will wish that you were never born! Is that clear?”

I only manage to utter a paltry “yes?” in response, my throat suddenly constricted and my heart beating wildly against my chest. My weak response is completely drowned out by the “Yes, Sir!” the jocks at the front all but scream back at the professor. I guess it this wasn’t the first time they had heard a speech like this. Though even the voices of a good dozen of fighters has to compete dearly to be heard over the shout of the hulk standing to the side of the group, “Kämpf mit Ehre! Stirb mit Ruhm!

I recognise the words as the motto of the von Adler family. So maybe he was related to Balderich after all. A bastard perhaps?

 

Director Prins clears his throat and simply states, “Good.” He steps back and pushes open the tall double winged door behind him. “Please go to the reception, they’ll hand you the keys for your assigned rooms. Your luggage was already delivered to your rooms, you don’t need to worry about that. We will meet again in Petras Hall at noon for a light lunch and afterwards we’ll test your abilities and compose your curriculum. Until then you are free to settle in and explore the campus.” With a final goodbye he steps to the side and waves us into the building.

As we, Mei and I, wait for the others to pass through the door the violet haired girl turns to us with an uncharacteristic, timid smile. “I’m Olivia, by the way. Your name is Angela, right? That’s what Angie stands for?”

I nod. She must have heard Mei address me in the bus. I offer her my hand, which she takes gently. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Olivia.”

“And I’m Mei,” the eastern girl interjects, ending the lingering contact of her soft hand. “Encantado de conocerte!” She says with a big grin and a polite tilt of her head.

We stand there for a few moments in awkward silence before Mei opens up again, “Soo... should we go find our dorms together? I’m pretty sure all the first years are roomed in the same building. At least it was like that when my parents were here, like a hundred years ago.”

Olivia nods her head fervently. “That sounds great, lead the way.”

 

Together, we ascend the scant few steps to the entrance, now completely unhindered by other people as all of them have already filtered into the entry hall beyond the large doors. At the landing we are stopped by the professor. “Miss Ziegler, I hope Lena’s caper hasn’t left you feeling under the weather?” He inquires gently, “Please don’t be angry at her. Life has dealt her a harsh hand and ever since she has recovered she can get a bit over excited at times, but she means well.”

“It’s okay,” I direct at the tips of my shoes, “I’m just…” I trail off. I glance up at his kind, open face and give myself a push, “I’m just feeling a bit embarrassed that I was the only one that reacted so badly to it.”

The director chuckles good-naturedly, “Don’t be, it just means that you are really well attuned to the magical spheres. The elves would have reacted just as badly if didn’t have their shields up. And don’t worry, learning how to shield yourself is magic 101.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Until lunch, then. Miss Zhou, Miss Colomar.” He dismisses us and then quickly steps through the open door and vanishes into the depths of the building.

 

 

“You don’t know how to shield yourself?” Mei asks surprised once the director is completely out of earshot.

I nod. Is knowing how to shield yourself that common? I don’t think my parents talked about it even a single time. Not with me nor with any of their colleagues during the snippets of conversations I managed to listen in on.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. That must have been awful.” Mei exclaims with a scrunched up face.

“I take it you guys know how to do it?”

Mei and Olivia both nod. “Yea, my parents taught it to me before we travelled to the Watchpoint. The Void Scars are not nice to be around without one. I let it slip once, ugh, it felt like my very soul was drenched in filth.” Mei shudders visibly, “Since then I haven’t dropped them for a single moment. It’s just not worth it.”

I look at her, confused, “Worth?”

She tilts her head at me for a moment before her expression lights up, “Ah you wouldn’t know. The world feels a little muted with the shields in place. Us magic users unconsciously bolster our perception with our power. Something you have to do actively with them in place.”

I look at her with wide eyes, “Really? I’ve never noticed.”

Olivia lets a small, friendly laugh slip, “Yeah, of course not, it’s your normal. Though you’ll notice it once it’s gone.”

Mei nods in agreement, “What she said. Also, the effects of this ability is different for everyone, so they write little about it in books. Too subjective. I, for example, am able to sense thermic streams. I know where it’s hot or cold beyond just seeing shadows or sun exposed places. It’s a really useful ability, I’ve never burned myself on the stove.” She adds with a laugh and pushes past the door.

 

The conversation drops into a lull as we finally step into the large entry hall. The large room continues the style from outside. The floors are made from polished, white marble with tasteful gold and silver inlays that shimmer in the sun streaking through the open door. The tall ceiling is held up by a number of wide, notched pillars that delimited a wide pathway that leads all the way to the other side of the building. The walls on each side hold a number of small recesses each of which sports the bust of a famous member of Overwatch. All in all it is a marvellous sight that displays the fame and power of the institution extremely well.

As I study the room I notice that only a scant few of the people from our class remain in the room. All of them gathered around a number of wooden desks standing in front of the left side wall about halfway through the building.

I guess that’s where we’ll get our keys.

With my two new friends by my side I walk towards the furthest desk, which appears to be free currently. I offer the young woman behind the desk a wide smile.

“Names?” The slightly older girl, probably an older student, barks at us before I have the chance to greet her.

“Eh, Angela Ziegler,” I splutter out--how rude!--then point at Olivia, “Olivia Colomar,” my voice rises at the end, unsure if I remember her name correctly.

I breathe out in relief when she just nods, and then point at the last one in our small group, “And Mei-Ling Zhou.”

 

The woman behind the counter doesn’t respond, instead she just turns away from us and pulls a number of keys from a little box. She drops one on the desk in front of each one of us. “All of you are housed in the Dr. Winston Hall.” She adds a bunch of leaflets to the pile, “There’s a map in here. You’ll find it easily and if you don’t ask around. Also, make sure to read the campus rules,” even more paper joins the small pile, “They are pretty simple. No drugs, no alcohol, be back on campus grounds by eight pm sharp. On Fridays and Saturdays the curfew is extended to eleven pm. Special dispensations can be made by the administration,” She points at the door opposite to her desk, “Which you’ll find over there. If you have any problems, need help with anything else? Go there. Unless it’s a medical issue, then you are to go to the infirmary immediately.” She looks us in the eye for the first time since we arrived and adds, “They adhere to the Healer’s Oath, you’ll not get punished for going to them, even if they find that you have used drugs or anything the like. So go no matter what. Because you’ll get punished if any of the staff stumble upon you hurt and not moving towards the hospital.” She pauses and eyes us expectantly, “Any questions?”

“Are the dormitories separated by gender,” Mei asks almost immediately.

The receptionist nods, with a small smile on her face that made her almost look beautiful, “Yes, but there are no rules about visiting the rooms of the opposite genders, the professors here aren’t that out of touch.” She laughs, “Also, the curfew only expects you to be on the campus grounds, not in your own rooms, and that is verified through the magic imbued into the university walls. So feel free to sleep over whenever you want, though you might want to stop by the infirmary beforehand. Pregnancy is immediate grounds for expulsion. Anything else?”

Olivia speaks next, “What about prescription drugs?”

“Get them through the infirmary, if they have the official seal they are A-Okay to have.” Olivia nods, apparently happy with this.

The receptionist looks at each of us in turn, and when none of us offers any further questions claps her hands, “Well then, the only thing left to do is to get you registered.” She steps from behind her desk and waves for us to follow her. We quickly grab our keys and papers and hurry after her up the spiral staircase that is recessed into the wall between the desks.

 

Reaching the top I stop short and gasp, the upper floor looks very similar to the entry hall, with one important exception. There, in the middle of the room floats a gargantuan, white glowing crystal.

“Whoa,” I hear Olivia mutter from behind me.

“Yeah, it’s pretty impressive, I know. But it would be great if you could hurry up a bit. I’ve got a class in twenty.” The young woman states impatiently, standing next to the massive rune stone and tapping her foot; looking utterly ridiculous.

“No hagas un alboroto.” Olivia mumbles under her breath as she steps past me towards the girl. Her movement enough to spur me on, too.

“You’ve got your keys?” The receptionist asks with a raised eyebrow. She nods happily as Olivia holds her key up, the fusion of metal and crystal glittering from the glow coming from the floating crystal.

“Excellent, hold it in your hand and place the other one on the large crystal. You’ll feel a slight tingling when you do, leave the hand there until the sensation stops. Clear?” Olivia nods and does as she is told. The moment her hand makes contact with the quietly humming rune stone clouds of violet smoke appear within the confines of the partially clear rock. The clouds slowly expand for a few heartbeats, and then suddenly vanish without a trace.

Olivia looks up at the receptionist, and when the girl nods, steps away from the magical artefact.

“You’re now registered with the security systems. You can now enter the campus from all sides, not only the main entrance, and you can now enter all buildings, not only the ones open to the public.” She points at the key in Olivia’s hands, which now glowed with a slight violet hue, “Also, you are now the only person that can open your dorm room, with the exception for the emergency personal, of course.”

“Next!” She calls out, looking over at Mei and me.

Mei reacts first and pulls her key from her pockets, with it in hand she takes the spot Olivia just vacated and touches her flat hand against the surface of the keystone. This time it just glows in a wide range of blue hues before returning to its usual coloration. After another moment my friend pulls her hand back and steps out of the way.

I pull my own key from my pocket, drying my sweaty palms in the process. I really didn’t want to leave a huge, nasty hand print all over the magical artefact. Then I step up to the glowing rock, take one last breath and put my hand on its surprisingly warm surface like the girls before me. The moment I touch the thing the flat of my hand starts to tingle painfully. The sensation quickly spreads through my entire body and I cringe at the creepy sensation of my head feeling like a limb that has fallen asleep.

Because of that, I almost miss the effects my touch has on the rock, but I look up just in time to see its surface ripple and flash. I tilt my head, unsure of what I’m watching. It looks a bit like row upon row of black and white playing cards that someone is flipping over and over rapidly.

I feel like the effect lasts for a lot longer than it did for the other two, and when it finally stops I’m almost out of breath, I haven’t realised I’m holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chica | Girl  
> Nah, es linda, amiga. | Nah, it's cute, friend.  
> Encantado de conocerte! | Nice to meet you!  
> Qué está pasando contigo? | What is going on with you?  
> No hagas un alboroto. | Don't make a fuss.


	6. Moving in

Five minutes later finds us standing outside the backside of the building with our heads together, studying the map the rude girl handed us.

“We’re here.” Olivia points out on the tiny map, “And over here is the Winston hall. So I guess we have to go down there.” She points her arm down the wide boulevard before us, “And turn off at the third path. Fácil.”

I follow the path she has indicated on the map and nod, “Yeah that sounds about right. What do you think, Mei?”

The eastern girl looks a little lost and shakes her head, “I have no idea, sorry. I’m really bad at navigating in cities, and this is basically one.”

I have to agree with her there, if the map is to be believed then the campus is huge. There are a good dozen dormitories marked on the map, and that doesn’t even include the barracks at the other end of the campus. Though they appear to be off limits to students as the entire area is shaded in red and labelled as military only. I guess that’s where the normal soldiers are trained. The ones with little magical potential and which mainly guard the roads and towns all over the continent and enforce the People’s Laws. 

Next, the miniature city is also home to a wide range of university buildings. From lecture halls over research labs to training rings for the fighters, they have it all. And if I interpret the scale of the map correctly then the hospital here is even larger than the one in Central City. All in all, this place is enormous, you probably need more than an hour to walk from one end to the other. I shake my head, I really hope we don’t have to walk too far between lessons. Otherwise I really have to get in shape fast, or I'm perpetually late!

 

“Bien entonces,” Olivia says in her musical language and rolls the paper up, “Let’s go.”

Together we walk down the road, our heads moving from one side to the other, trying to take in as much as is humanly possible during our walk to our new home. 

The houses lining the street are rife with history, many of their facades displaying beautiful murals of events long past. And others are pockmarked by curious runes and glowing lines. And the plants! 

The flowers and trees that line the road are of a kind I have never seen before. They are painted in a myriad of colours, with strange and magnificent blooms that sway softly in the warm breeze.

 

“So… Does anyone of you know what that was all about?” Olivia asks, “You know, the giant glowing rock, thingy.” She adds at seeing our confused expressions.

Before I can tell her that I have absolutely no idea Mei speaks up, “That’s a Lodestone. We had them at the Watchpoint, too. They hold a huge amount of power and are specially manufactured by the Arcane Division. They function as anchors for the enchantments that are placed on the fortification, as normal rock doesn’t hold most kinds of magic very well.” She furrows her brow in thought and looks up at the blue sky, “I guess this one is also an interface. It probably recorded our auras when we touched it and linked that to our keys.”

She pulls her key from her pocket and holds it up in front of her face. The sunrise refracted beautifully in the now blue crystal inlaid into the middle of the key shaft. “Did you notice that you can feel where your key is?” Mei asks and points at the sapphire, “The coloration probably comes from a tiny piece of my aura the Lodestone burned into the empty mana crystal. I bet that these keys only work if the correct person holds it!”

“Wow, eso es genial!” Oliva says, inspecting her own key.

I take a step closer to her, trying to make out what caught her attention. My small movement must have caught her attention as she looks over to me with an excited smile. “Here, look!” She says as she holds the key out to me.

My eyes go wide, the key is a real piece of art! The clear crystal built into the centre of the key was filled with thick, violet clouds--just like the Lodestone had been--that billowed and contracted at the command of some kind of ethereal wind.

The voluminous clouds give the crystal a sense of depth that far surpasses its true physical dimensions. It creates the impression of a large, hollow tube that is the prison for that feels almost alive.

I tap the hard surface of the crystal with childish curiosity. I don’t really expect anything to happen, it just reminds me a lot of the terrariums they had in one of the travelling freak shows that visited our small town, and the other kids had always done that. 

A surprised gasp makes it past my lips when the smoke instantly reacts to my touch by sending out a large number of tiny feelers to the contact point.

“Whoa!” Olivia exclaims and involuntarily moves her hand, breaking the contact between her key and my finger, “What was that?” She wonders aloud, moving her own fingers over the crystal, her touch not eliciting the same reaction mine had.

“Eres realmente un poco de mí, ¿verdad?”

“What about yours?” Mei asks curiously. I’m more than happy to oblige and pull my own key from the folds of my pants. “Here,” I say and hold it up for my two friends to scrutinise. 

From what I can tell the key remains unchanged. It is still suffused with a bright, white glow that does that strange black rippling thing on occasion. Although, the effect was a bit slower than it had been on the Lodestone, but that could just as well have something to do with the power of the stone, or because it had actively done something.

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Mei gushes.

I look at her with an eyebrow raised, “You think?” In my opinion it could do without the black effects.

Mei nods sincerely, “Yes, it’s way more interesting than my boring impression of blue in blue. Don’t you agree, Oliva?”

“Sí es hermosa.”

 

Ten minutes later we finally find our dorm. We could have it done in it in five if we hadn’t gotten lost. We must have missed our turnoff sometimes during our talk about keys and so we walked down the wrong crossroad. It took us a good long while to realise that and when we did we decided to retrace our steps instead of trying to find a way between the buildings lining the small path. We really didn’t want to track through someone’s private garden, or something like that.

“Looks nice,” I say. The building appears to be pretty new. Its facade is still an unblemished white, and its roof tiles have yet to lose their vibrant reddish colour. 

“Yes,” Mei and Olivia agree, the later one holding the door open for us. She lets the door fall closed behind us and asks, “On what level are our rooms again?

I dig out the wad of paper from my pants pockets and rifle through them until I find the small pamphlet with my room number on it.

“507, fifth level, so I guess all the way up there.”

“And not an elevator in sight,” Mei moans, unhappy. 

Olivia looks at her incredulously, “Did you really think they would have one here? They are ridiculously expensive.”

“It could have been possible,” Mei pouts, “The Watchpoint had multiple.”

“Yeah, but that one is buried below a hundred metres of ice, isn’t it?”

“Hey guys? Can we go up now? We don’t have a lot of time left before lunch.” I ask timidly.

“Por supuesto!” Olivia answers and pulls a dented pocket watch from somewhere. “Joder, es tarde.” She snaps the face closes and hurries up the stairs, taking three steps at once with her long legs.

I quickly hurry after her retreating form, doing my best to keep up with her. But while I’m as tall as her, my cardio just isn’t even close and I have to slow down halfway to the third landing.

I clutch at my burning side and call out to her, “Slow down, please!” Hoping that she isn’t yet out of earshot. 

I hear some shuffling from above me and try to straighten out and look up. I groan as the stinging intensifies. “Are you okay?” Olivia asks, leaning over the railing about two levels above me. “Do I need to come down?” She adds concerned.

I shake my head, take another big breath and tell her, “No, just please wait there.” 

The girl nods and braces herself with both of her forearms, settling in for the wait. 

I slowly make my way up to her--my neck burning--as I’m aware that her gaze rests unwavering on me. Which makes me climb the stairs extra carefully, there is no need for me to stumble and look like an uncoordinated idiot. 

She smiles at me when I reach her, “Bravo cariña, ready to continue or should we wait for Mei.”

I look over the handrail; she’s about one level below us, taking it slow. Slow, but steady. “It’s the Overwatch thing to do.”

“True,” Olivia agrees, with a strange smile.

 

We reach our floor soon after, the stairs releasing us into the middle of the floor with a hallway leading in either direction. Opposite the stairs are a pair of glass doors that lead into a common room.

From what I could see most of the space is dominated by a sitting room with a huge fireplace and enough comfy seats for the entire floor. But I think that I also see a small kitchen unit off to the side, sporting what looks like a well sized cooler and a few magic powered hotplates. Nice! If worst comes to pass I can make my own coffee and tea up here.

“What are your numbers again?” Mei asks, her information slip in hand. I’ve got room number 509.”

“507,” I state, remembering the number from when I looked it up in the foyer. We look over to Olivia, who fumbles with her clothes for a moment until she produces the slip from some kind of hidden pocket somewhere. She studies it for barely a second before her face lights up, “508. I guess that means we’re all neighbours.”

“We need to go down that way, then,” Mei states, stepping away from the floor plan and taking the lead. “501, 503… Ah here you are,” She indicates the door with the number 507 with an elegant flourish of her hand. 

My key slips into the lock easily. It glows for a short moment and then lets me turn it, unlocking the wooden door with a satisfying click. I step into the room and gasp in shock. It is huge! The room about twice as big as the one I have at home.

I take a few slow steps into the room, taking it all in. In one corner of the room stands a big four poster bed, separated from the rest of a room by a tasteful privacy screen that is painted in the fashion typical for the Dragon Empire.

The huge, wooden desk is pushed against the wall just below the window, offering the most natural light possible for reading and writing. But even dusk won't be a problem as there is a small solar lamp fixed to the side of the desk, its light catcher already perfectly aligned with the window. Those things work for a long time without a need to exchange or recharge the mana stones embedded in the base, as they take most of their light energy from the sun instead of generating it themselves! Though they are pretty pricey...You can probably buy a year’s worth of candles for the price of one.

A bit removed from the table is a small sitting area with enough seats for at least four people, more if they don’t have my issues with personal space.

“Wow, this room is awesome!” Olivia exclaims and dives on my bed with a running start, easily clearing my two suitcases standing at the foot of the bed. She screeches in surprise when the bouncy mattress almost flings her off and into the hard stone wall to the side. Luckily she has incredible body control and somehow manages to twist around in mid-air and grab at the soft linen covering the bed. 

While the heavy covers don’t manage to stop her trajectory completely, they do slow her down enough so that she only tumbles off the side of the bed harmlessly instead of crashing headlong into the rock solid wall and cracking her head open like a raw egg.

“Autsch!” Her dishevelled mop of hair pops up from the other side of the bed. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” She says as she slowly worms her way back on the bed, rubbing the back of her head tentatively.

“Did you just jump on my bed with your shoes on?” I ask her indignantly. She looks down at her dirty, black leather boots, then looks sheepishly back up at me, “Oops, sorry.” And quickly gets off my bed, moaning theatrically at every turn. 

I just shake my head at her silly antics and walk over to the door next to my “bedroom”, maybe there are some cleaning utilities in there. 

Which there are, in a way, just not ones that are used on furniture. Instead there is a small, but pretty lavish bath behind the door. It sports a small bathtub standing on clawed, feet with golden armatures that look similar to the ones we have at home. Warm water, yes!

There is even a toilet, and a sink with large mirror behind it. No communal bathrooms, double yes!

I return to the main room where my two friends are currently testing the two easy chairs in my sitting area.

“Hey, I’d like to put some of my things away. Why don’t we meet by the stairs in about an hour so that we can go to lunch together? What do you guys think?”

“Sounds good,” Mei chirps happily and gets out of her seat, pulling Olivia after her out of the room.

When the door closes behind them I sit down on the end of the bed with a heavy exhale and take stock of the day so far.

Two meltdowns, a couple of near misses, a talk with the director and some weirdness, it could have definitely gone better. I slump back and let myself fall back onto the bed, my upper body bouncing a few times. 

I soft smile spreads over my face, but I also made two friends, so that’s cool. Mei seems just like my kind of person, thoughtful and pretty much interested in everything. From history over politics to magic, we talked about all of it. I guess us becoming friends was pretty much inevitable.

Olivia, I frown, I’m still not entirely sure what her deal is. She stepped into the car with such a cocky attitude, only for it to be replaced with this playful and at times even bashful behaviour. 

I shake my head, I really shouldn’t interpret too much into it. I mean I was pretty stressed out in the morning and probably also did behave oddly. I’ll see how she behaves in the future and make my opinion then.

With that settled, I push myself up into a sitting position and look at my heavy suitcase. I really don’t want to deal with them right now. My eyes move back to the bed, but the bed is so comfy and I really could do with a little break.

You’re going to regret not unpacking now and having to do it in the evening or tomorrow when school starts, my traitorous brain reminds me. So I get of the soft, so very soft, bed with a heavy sigh and drag the first of the fucking heavy cases over to the wooden wardrobe next to the door.

This is going to take a while.

 

I’m kneeling in front of the large wardrobe, an old sweater between my legs and the hard floor and a bunch of socks in my hands when I suddenly startle at the penetrating ringing of a nearby clock tower. I listen to it for a moment, counting the bangs before I suddenly jump to my feet, repeatedly whispering “shit!” under my breath. I had missed the proposed meeting time by a good five minutes!

I almost stumble into the wardrobe a step later, when my knees buckle from my prolonged kneeling, but I barely manage to catch myself on one of the upper shelves.

Luckily the piece of furniture is sturdy enough not to fall over and bury me below a ton of wood--I really didn’t envy whoever had to carry this up the stairs, though they were probably dwarfs--and awkwardly hop over to the door, my right leg prickling intensely from the blood flowing back into the limb.

I still have the good sense to check my pockets before I leave the room for the little map and my key, just in case that the door locks by itself, and then hurry out into the hallway. In my hurry I overlook the woman coming down the hall, from the other side of the open door and crash into her at full speed.

I bounce of her powerful form, her body not budging an inch.

“Oww,” I cry out as I fall back onto my ass, my head bouncing painfully of the door frame.

“Oh, sozhaleyu!” The powerful woman says and puts large hands on my armpits. A moment later I’m effortlessly lifted into the air by the stranger, where I hang for a moment, like a lost little kitten, before she carefully sets me back on my feet. 

“You okay, tiny one?”

I feel the back of my head for blood, but my fingers come away dry. So I’m not going to miss lunch, good. Though I will probably grow a pretty big bump, if the painfully throbbing is any indication.

A sigh, then remember the reason for my crash and look up, and up, and up, until I meet the surprisingly soft face of the mountain I had run into. 

“Are you okay?” She repeats her question, now with a frown on her face. “You need hospital?” She adds in broken English, her Russian heritage showing through.

I dumbly shake my head, then quickly find my voice, worried that she will just carry me away if I don’t behave normally soon. “I’m alright!” I assure her as sincerely as is possible with my blooming headache, “I’m sorry for running into you! It was completely my fault, I wasn’t looking, like at all!”

“Ha!” The pink haired giantess barks, “I didn’t even feel it, you are, how do you say... ah, flyweight!” 

I look at her disconcerted, unsure if I should take offence at her words. I choose not to, her expression remained friendly all the way through, so I doubt that she meant anything by it.”

“My name is Aleksandra Zaryanova!” The muscular girl barks again, her voice always just a tad bit too loud, “but my friends just call me Zarya!”

“Nice to meet you, Aleksandra. I’m Angela Ziegler.” I tentatively grasp her outstretched paw-like hand, worried that a single squeeze of her hand will do what the fall couldn’t. “Zarya!” The girl reaffirms and squeezes my hand with barely any force at all.

She was probably used to reigning in her immense strength.

“Proshchay!” The girl says after an awkward moment and steps around me in a comical manner, her back brushing against the wall on the other side of the hallway. “Can never be too careful!” She says seriously, with a sly twinkle in her eyes, and then adds, “Maybe see you later, ay?”

I watch her retreating back, and then belatedly return her goodbye. “Yes, sure. Bye.”

 

My two friends are already waiting at the stairs, having watched my little run in with the pink haired mountain.

“Who was that,” Mei asks once I reach them.

“Zarya... Alexandra Zaryasomething… I think she’s from Muscovy.” I answer lamely as we walk down the stairs.

“She looks really strong,” Mei states dreamily. I just nod, unsure how to respond to that.

“She wasn’t in the bus with us, right?” Olivia wonders with a frown on her face. I think about it for a moment, then shake my head, “I don’t think so. There were a bunch of jocks at the front, but they didn’t have pink hair.”

“Nah she wasn’t in there,” Mei agrees with us, “I would have noticed her for sure… Do you think she is in our class?”

“Probably,” Olivia says as she hops ahead to open the main door for us. “She came out from one of the rooms at the end of the hallway. There was probably more than just one bus, or maybe they arrived a few days ago. Our class is probably a lot bigger than just the two dozen of us that were in the bus...”

Oh, boy. I turn to her and ask, “Do you think there are any more members of royalty in our class?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fácil | Easy  
> Bien entonces | Well then  
> Wow eso es genial! | Wow, that's cool!  
> Eres realmente un poco de mí, ¿verdad? | You really are a bit of me, right?  
> Sí es hermosa. | Yes it is beautiful.  
> Por supuesto! | Of course!  
> Joder, es tarde. | Fuck it's late.  
> cariña | honey  
> sozhaleyu! | Sorry!  
> Proshchay! | Goodbye


	7. Winston

We find the canteen with surprising ease, and stand about ten minutes after we left our dormitory in front of the Doctor Harold Winston Hall. 

The large building is freestanding with a large, cobblestone plaza in front and some well-tended greenery on each side.

The building itself is constructed from local stone--so nothing too extravagant--that still has its bright, original colour. Which either means that the hall is probably quite new or incredibly well tended.

I don’t get the opportunity to inspect it closer as the other two don’t slow down their steps, and I don’t want to make them wait for me, again.

 

Though it wouldn’t have made a difference, as we are blocked at the door by a large, very hairy, young man.

Unlike the jocks his girth isn’t all muscle, he seems to also carry around a good amount of softer tissue, though I don't doubt his strength for a second. He can probably put my lights out with a single punch from his massive arms.

Although, for the moment he doesn’t seem to be interested in doing so, not even in the slightest. Instead he’s scrutinising a number of symbols carved into the door frame with a gleeful expression on his face. From time to time he mumbles something unintelligible under his breath and hastily jots something down into a tiny, ragged notebook with an even smaller pencil stub, completely unaware that he is holding up an entire group of people.

I frown, do I look like that when I geek out?

 

“Hola chico grande!” Olivia interrupts the guy. He startles and lumbers around, his eyes growing big as he sees us standing right behind him. “Do you mind moving a bit to the side?”

“Oh, no, no, of course not,” The guy stammers and steps to the side, making enough room for the door to open. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to block you! I just saw these runes,” He points excitedly at the markings he had examined so intensely. “Aren’t they awesome?”

The other two glance at me, as if I know what they do. I shake my head minutely, I only have a very superficial knowledge of the magical world because of my parent’s resistance against some preparatory Thaumaturgy lessons. 

“What’s so interesting about them,” Mei prompts, stepping a little bit closer to look at them herself.

 

The guy’s face lights up like someone has told him that his birthday happens twice this year and he promptly starts to explain. “They transform the construction materials used in this building into pseudo life forms that can grow and regenerate. By now these rock slabs aren’t just held together by mortar, but by fine filaments of stone that have grown between them!” 

He waves his arms around, encompassing the entire building in his gesture, “The Doctor Harold Winston Hall will get stronger with time, not weaker! Marvellous, right?”

“Wow, that is really cool” I agree and step closer to him so that I have a better view of the lines and runes he points at. “So these regulate the mana flow, right?”

He nods eagerly, “Yes, exactly. And the earth mana that flows through them is collected by this rune right here,” He taps an intricate carving that looks like a bunch of concentric circles to me. 

“Ambient mana?” I enquire. “Earth mana at that? Isn’t there way too little of that around here to power something of this scale?”

 

Ambient mana is notoriously hard to gather, as mana strives to reach an equilibrium outside of a body. To increase the concentration of it you have to compress it somehow, or trap it, and either way requires the expenditure of some mana, which is a problem if you rely on as weak a source as ambient mana.

He grins at me knowingly, “That’s the beauty of it. There is no time constraint, so you can gather power for a long time in a few well-placed reservoirs and grow the stone at your leisure. It will take years and years until the slabs completely merge with each other. But as long as there is no world shattering cataclysm, or a really strong earthquake, the spell will run its course.”  

“Clever!” I exclaim. Though I wonder how they managed to prevent uncontrolled growth. I look around but can’t find any inexplicable outcroppings. Impressive, the Geomancers here really know their stuff.

 

“This building is alive?” Olivia questions dubiously. 

“Not alive, alive. It’s more of an artificial mimicry of life.”

“Oookay, if you say so… You sure you’re not making this up?” Olivia accuses, her usual playfulness missing from her words.

“Olivia!” I chide her.

“What?” She huffs, crossing her arms in front of her, “Look at him, he’s about our age. How would he know all this stuff?”

“Maybe he’s studying earth magic? And why would he make this up in the first place?”

“To get attention, obviously.” The girl sniffs.

“I… I would never!” The guy stammers indignantly, “Knowledge is sacred!”

“Hey, hey. Let’s all calm down,” Mei tries to defuse the situation, “And let’s go inside, we’re blocking the way.”

I look behind me, where I see another group approaching. We quickly step inside, the boy right behind us.

 

“So, how do you know so much about this building? It’s obviously quite important to you.” Mei tries to mollify the guy.

He rights his ill-fitting glasses and explains, “I’m Winston. Doctor Harold Winston was my father.”

“Oh...” Mei trails off, “You don’t have to tell us more if you don’t want to.” She adds quietly. 

“It’s okay, it’s been a while. And not talking about him would do him a grave injustice!” He waves his hand above his head. “This place here was built in his honour. He was the world’s foremost expert in Biomancy and one of the few people that could turn their arcane research into alchemical concoctions. The treatments he developed help treat the ills of countless people!” He stops for a moment, lost in the past.

“The last few years before his death he worked at the Lunar Colony, a research and treatment centre for all kinds of Werebeast afflictions. That’s where I met him for the first time. I was almost a toddler back then, but already afflicted with the sickness. 

He cared for me, basically raised me by himself, and later adopted me.” He stops for a moment, snivelling a bit. 

I do my best not to show I have noticed. 

“He… There was a rampage. I don’t know what caused it, one moment everything was peaceful, the next there were screams and roars echoing down the hallways. My father reached me through the audio stones and guided me to the portal room. 

The entire facility was completely trashed, as if a whole stampede went through, and there was blood...” He shudders visibly at the memory and skips ahead, “Somehow I managed to reach the gate room, and he was able to open one of them for me, but he… he... “Winston’s voice falters.

Mei closes the distance between them and hugs the agitated boy tightly. “Shh, it’s okay we get it.” She tells him quietly.

I step from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do. I glance over at Olivia, who looks as uncomfortable as I feel. 

 

After a long, few moments the boy slowly disentangles himself from Mei’s hug. “I think I need a moment to myself. I'll see you inside... Yes?”

Olivia and I just nod, while Mei attempts to help him further. “Can I do something for you? Maybe get someone?” But Winston just shakes his head vehemently. “No I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” And then he high-tails it, vanishing into the depths of the building he knows so well, while we watch on, rather concerned.

“Should we follow him?” I wonder aloud.

“Better not,” Olivia insists. “I think it’s best to just give him some space. Also, we should probably head into the canteen, it’s almost twelve o’clock.”

 

Since neither Mei nor I have anything better to offer, we make our way down the hall and through the large double doors at the end of it. Beyond we find an ordinary mess hall with numerous long tables arranged into lines, with a long buffet to one side.

While the entrance to the buffet line is still roped off, there are already a bunch of cooks setting up the food, and even more students are already sitting in small groups at various tables.

I recognise a good number of them from the bus, especially the less human ones who are sitting at separate tables in ones and twos. 

 

We head over to one of the many free tables towards the back and sit down.

“Soo,” Olivia starts slowly, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I don’t think we should hang out too much with that Winston guy.”

“What why?” Mei questions, her face drawn into an indignant frown. “Because he’s a were-person?”

“What? No! I don’t have a problem with that. I just think that he might not be entirely…” She seesaws with her hand, searching for the right word, finally settling on, “cuerda...”

Mei cocks her head, “Come again?”

“You know, sane.” She blurts out, then quickly rambles on, trying to get the words out as rapidly as humanly possible without mangling them too much. “I’ve heard about that place, Colonia Lunar. Calling it a treatment centre is like calling a goblin warren a day-care. It has a spark of truth in there, the warren is filled with pequeños monstruos con colmillos, and the colony has medical treatments, if you count vivisection and bloodletting as such.”

Mei and I stare at her incredulously. “That is hard to believe,” I interrupt her flood of words, “Why would they do such things?”

“Super Soldados. Werebeasts are strong, fast, have better senses, recover quickly from most major injuries and can transform into an even stronger beast form.” Olivia retorts with a serious look on her pretty face. 

 

I stare at her, thoughts running rampant. She has clearly thought about this a lot, and while I don’t want to believe her there is a nagging voice in the back of my head that agrees with her, that sees the potential in such research. A voice that speaks with the same tone as a certain demon. 

I shake my head in an attempt to dislodge the faint voice.

“And all of that is innate! Spells don’t block their abilities and even transmogrification will quickly pearl of their hides.” She continues on, her voice now holding a trace of desperation.

She probably assumed the shake of my head was born from disbelieve.

“Look, I’m not saying it couldn’t happen, or hasn't happened in the past. But we aren’t barbarians anymore. People would protest!” I say, my words sounding weak even to my own ears.

 

“You should tell that to those guys!” Mei interjects, in an attempt to change the topic, or maybe lighten the mood a bit.

I follow her outstretched arm to a group of jocks a few tables over. They form a loose circle around their table, loudly cheering the two sitting guys on and betting on the outcome of their arm wrestling match.

I look over just in time to see the huge, blonde Bavarian from the bus force his opponent’s beefy arm onto the table’s surface.

“Sieg!” He bellows loudly to the renewed cheers of his admirers and pumps his arm. 

 

“What people?” I turn back to Olivia, “Who will stand up for violent, dangerous animals? Monsters that will eat your children if you invite them under your roof?” Olivia spits, an intense hate dripping from her words. She glares at me, though her eyes are unfocused and continues her tirade.

“Do you think the family who have shunned them will suddenly ride to their rescue? No, los hijos de puta are happy to forget! So, no I don’t believe for a moment that this mierda isn’t happening right this very moment somewhere in the world.” She slows down a bit, her breathing laboured.

 

“Sorry, I went overboard there.” She excuses after a few deep breaths. “But my point is, people that work in these places are not good people. And even worse fathers. I’d be surprised if Winston was anything but a prisoner in that place. He just got lucky that a scientist took a liking to him before they started with their experiments. But even so, I don’t want to think about all the vile shit that man taught him before he croaked.”

“Olivia,” Mei cries out scandalised. “Don’t talk like that about the dead!”

“What?” Olivia sneers, “He got killed by the people he tortured! He got his just deserts!”

 

Mei stares furiously at Olivia, making the other girl shrink in on herself, clearly surprised by the fire burning behind Mei’s eyes. I guess seeing that kind of angry expression on the usually mellow girl is pretty disconcerting, though not entirely surprising to me. 

Because my teachers warned me against ever insulting the ancestry of a person from the eastern regions. Ancestor worship is really pervasive in that part of the world, and the people are really quick to draw steel for any perceived insult against their forefathers or themselves. And, apparently, even questioning the honour of someone else's adoptive father is enough to trigger outrage.

 

“Can we please not fight about this?” I interject quickly, disrupting the stare off happening across the table. “I really don’t know anything about Harold Winston but if Overwatch honoured his memory like this he had to have done at least some good. They don’t just build entire halls for just about anybody. Also I don’t think it’s fair to judge someone by rumours pertaining their parents.”

“Buena.” Olivia agrees, cowed by Mei’s outburst.

I turn around to Mei, whose jaw is still tense with anger. “Don’t be too angry with her, she isn’t from the Dragon Empire!” 

My friend stares at me for a moment, her brow furrowed, then she lets out a big sigh and slouches back into her seat. “Just don’t do that again,” Mei warns Olivia angrily and crosses her arms in front of her chest, letting an uncomfortable silence take the place of her words.

 

We don’t speak much until lunch officially starts with the sound of a hidden gong.

Most of the other students immediately jump up from their seats and hurry over to the start of the buffet.

Though we remain at our place as none of us are willing to involve ourselves in the complicated dance that is currently unfolding at the end of the line. Where the people of lower social status make space for their betters.

Something that was actually quite interesting to watch, as a lot of them were of similar rank. So I was eager to see how princes and princesses would deal with these small differences, especially since some of the realms valued gender differently.

In the end they just pair up, with Prince Morrison and Princess Ana in the front and Fareeha and Reyes right behind them. I guess that's what happens when you live together for a month or two. 

 

We join the line a few minutes later, when most of the other students are already served. We move forwards quickly and even though a good number of hungry people came before us the food trays are still mostly laden with heaps of food from all corners of the known world.

They probably want to offer something for every taste.

I intended to try a bit of everything, but now that I’m faced with the very large number of dishes I realise that this plan is pretty much impossible, unless I want to stay here through the night. So I only try the dishes that look best to me and hope that the ones I can’t try will reappear sometimes in the future.

 

With my plate heavy from the tower of food I built, I make my way back to our table, smiling at Winston in passing. He must have entered the hall while we were standing in line and decided to sit with the grumpy dwarf from the bus. 

Interestingly enough the dwarf doesn't seem to mind his presence. In fact it looks like he is currently drawing some kind of equation on a paper napkin, while explaining it to the heavy-set guy in a low mumble.

With a heavy heart I decide not to interrupt them, even though the schematics he’s drawing looks really interesting, and instead continue on to our own table. I sit down and wait for my friends to return, fork already in hand.

Hey, at least I don’t just start, for real. I mean a few specks of sauce don't really count, right?

 

Olivia is quick to arrive, unlike Mei who stops at Winston’s table to check in on the poor guy. Though she doesn’t let us wait for very long and joins us after what couldn't be more than one or two exchanged sentences. 

“Good appetite!” I wish the others and dig into my huge plate of mixed dishes. 

“Buen apetito!”

 

I’m just starting in on some kind of “almost barley” dish when a loud, meaty slap rings through the hall, quickly followed by the even louder clatter of tableware against solid stone. A quick glance over to the food line reveals an irate Drow standing over the prostrate form of a mousy haired girl.

The Drow steps over the girl as if she isn’t there and continues down the line, taking tiny servings from a few of the meat dishes and then vanishes into one of the hall’s far corners.

 

“Is that Lena?” Mei wonders, her brow furrowed in concern for the short girl, “Do you think she needs our help?”

But just as she is asking this the girl finally stands up and turns around, facing in our general direction, revealing that it really is the girl from before. Though now with a huge, bright red hand print blooming on her cheek. Lena hastily collects the scattered crockery and hurries to one of the doors at the beginning of the line, which probably leads to the kitchen.

She reappears moments later with a broom in her hand with which she efficiently cleans up the shattered porcelain.

 

Looks like that wasn’t her first broken plate.

I return to my food, far more interested in the tasty thing I was just trying for the first time then in gawking at the poor girl. 

 

“Hey luvs, is this seat free?” A cheery voice asks a little while after the incident. The speaker’s accent so unmistakable that it could only be one person. I look up and nod, jup, it’s Lena.

She must have seen my nod as approval as she drops her heaping tray on our table and pulls out one of the free chairs.

“Thanks!” She says gratefully and starts devouring the mountain of food she brought to the table. I watch her in fascination, wondering where the thin girl puts that insane amount of food, and from the looks on my friends’ faces, I'm not the only one with that thought on my mind.

“Showy ah havn’t caught youw names.” Lena mumbles through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. She swallows the huge bite, a little red appearing on the bridge of her nose and continues, her words far more intelligible now that they aren’t filtered through a good part of an English supper, “I’m Lena Oxton, nice to meet you guys! What are your names?

“Angela Ziegler,” I introduce myself, then point at each of my friends in turn and do the same for them. I don’t bother with offering my hand, as the girl has already returned to her lunch.

“Nice to meet you guys,” She says a moment later with a big, infectious grin on her face.

“You too,” I find myself saying back to her, even though I’m still unsure of what I should think of the universe twisting girl. 

 

“Sorry again about earlier,” Lena apologises again, as if she had read my thoughts. I wave her apology off, “Don’t worry about it.” It wouldn’t be fair of me to hold that against her.

She bobs her head happily and shoves down another forkful of food.

 

“So, what was that all about, earlier?” Olivia asks a few minutes later, when Lena finally slows down a bit. The girl in question shoots Olivia a confused look, which makes her look a lot like a surprised chipmunk, with her big brown eyes and food distended cheeks. “Whut?”

“Why did the Drow hit you?”

Lena takes a moment to force down the bite of food and awkwardly rubs the back of her head. Though she does answer without any further prodding from my new friend.

“Ah, I just asked her if it hurt when she fell from heaven.” She pauses for a moment, then adds in a serious voice, “I guess that gal doesn’t take compliments too well.”

 

“Deveras?” Olivia bursts out laughing.

“You… You asked a Drow what?” Mei questions aghast, barely managing to get those words past the shock Lena’s words have elicited from her. Which is more than I can do, as I simply stare at the energetic girl with a slack jawed expression. 

“What’s so shocking about that? I think she’s pretty hot, that skin tone is really something...” Lena asks defensively. 

“Eso es increíble!” Olivia blurts through a renewed fit of laughter, which nearly sends her to the floor. 

“What. Is. So. Funny?” The brunette asks seething, clearly annoyed by our reactions.

 

With a shake of her head, Mei finally takes pity on the girl, “Drows are generally seen as Elves that were cast out of the grace of their God, asking if the fall hurt is really, really racist.” 

Lena’s eyes grow big at hearing that. This is clearly the first she has ever heard about that.

“That puts it lightly, Mei.” Olivia agrees, her voice still filled with the occasional giggle, “Given an entire hour, I doubt I could come up with something more insulting than that. I think you just made an enemy for life.”

“Oh, but I didn’t mean it like that,” She laments quietly, looking over her shoulder at the unnaturally dark corner where the Drow is sitting, “really…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola chico grande! | Hello big guy  
> cuerda | sane  
> pequeños monstruos con colmillos | little monsters with fangs  
> Soldados | Soldiers  
> los hijos de puta | Sons of a bitch  
> Mierda | Shit  
> Buena | Good  
> Buen apetito! | Good appetite  
> Deveras? | Really?  
> Eso es increíble! | This is incredible!


	8. Testing

“That woman must be a saint among Drows,” Mei mentions a few moments later, “Only hitting you, usually they break at least some bones.”

“Or, she is just biding her time until she can jump you when you’re all alone in some dark hallway, there are an awful lot of witnesses in this room.” Olivia retorts with an evil grin firmly in place on her face, the hard edges it creates reminding me of the visage of a shark I saw in one of my parent’s rich patient’s zoological collections.

The target of the grin immediately shies away from it, almost vanishing under the edge of the table. “Y-you think?” She asks timidly, completely subdued.

“Stop teasing the poor girl, Olivia.” I sigh tiredly, already exhausted by the day’s events, even though it is barely past lunchtime. I turn back to the universe-twisting girl and smile kindly at her, channelling my mother’s bedside manner as best as I can, “There is a lot more to racism than just words, I’m sure the Drow realises that you didn’t mean anything by it. At worst she’ll just think that you’re a bit of an airhead.”

Hmm, I guess I’ll have to practice some more. 

Though Lena seems to be happy with my words as she perks up considerably. “Good, good, I can work with that!”

“¿Seriamente?” Olivia shakes her head, “You’re still trying? How desperate are you?”

“The heart wants what the heart wants, luv.”

“Heart, huh, cute name for it, I call mine something different...” The violet haired girl drawls, just loud enough to ensure that about everyone within a few tables of us can hear her perfectly.

So Lena really is a lesbian? I wonder if she would mind answering some questions, I never had the chance to talk to one of them… Would that be rude?

Before I can settle on one or the other side of the argument my train of thought is interrupted by a loud gong.

I raise my head just in time to see the director stride through the double winged doors at the entrance, a tall man with salt and pepper hair at his side.

Director Prins comes to a halt a few metres from the door and claps his hands, causing the sound of a gong to permeate the hall again. I frown, impressed by the display. Creating such a specific sound so easily… He has to be an Arcane Mage. Manipulating sound waves like that with anything but arcane magic would be insanely hard.

“Dear future students,” Henric Prins intones, his voice convoying a gravity that shuts down even the most obstinate of conversations still happening at the jocks and noble’s table. “I hope you all have found the food to your liking.” He pauses for a moment, giving us space to voice our agreement and then continues, “Now that you are all fed and watered we come to one of the most important steps of welcoming you into the Overwatch family: The Testing. We, of course, know that all of you have shown some magical potential in the past, or otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting at these tables, in this hallowed halls.” He gestures with his arms, encompassing everything, telling us that he doesn’t just mean the Doctor Harold Winston Hall, but the entirety of the campus.

“But these tests of your potential were made by a great range of people, some of which are masters at their craft, while others are less experienced in the Arcane Arts. Since the furthering of magical skills is an exceedingly dangerous enterprise it is of the utmost importance to us to know your power level down to the last speck of mana you hold!”

“Supongo que alguien sufrirá una amarga decepción.” Olivia mutters under her breath, staring angrily past me at the table filled with the four nobles. “Daddy’s money can’t buy skill.” She adds, her voice dripping venom.

I look at her curiously. I have to remember to ask her about this later, when the Head of Overwatch University isn’t talking…

“My dear assistant,” He points at the thin, tall man standing next to him, who acknowledges him with a faint nod, “Monsieur Verne, will call out your names one by one. When he does you are to walk through the doors behind me and step into the room vis-a-vis where you will receive further instructions. Once you are done you can return here, or go down to the training fields where the second part of the test will be held.” He lets his gaze rove over us, meeting everyone's eyes for a second and then turns away, “I’ll see you all later. I wish you all good luck, though I’m sure you won’t need it!”

The second the door has swung closed behind the Director the Frenchman calls out the first name, “Ana Amari.” He states with a voice that would put many a herald to shame. 

The girl in question gets out of her seat, head held high, and steps out of the room in accordance with the earlier instructions. 

“Do you know what this test is about,” I ask into the silence her exit has left behind, my voice one or two octaves higher than usual. I didn’t know there was going to be a test! I’m not prepared!

“You never did a potential examination?” Mei enquiries, surprised.

“No, should I?” I push a wisp of hair out of my face with a jittery hand. “You guys did?”

“Yes,” Mei states, the other two girls nodding in agreement. “Lots, actually,” Lena pitches in, “My power makes regular checks necessary. At the beginning I had them near daily.”

“Oh,” I look down at my hands that are gripping the edge of the table and force them to release the wood with a conscious effort. They are all so much better prepared than me!

Some of my worry must have been visible on my face, as Mei puts a hand on my arm, smiling at me. The studious girl easily getting what I am worried about. “Don’t worry Angela. It’s not something you can prepare yourself for. In fact, you don’t have to do anything during the test.”

I look up at her, “really?”

“Yes,” all of the girls say at once. The other two finally catching on.

“You just have to step into this room,” Lena elaborates, pointing at the door and what is waiting for us on the other side. “Then all you have to do is drop your shields,” Her eyes grow big for a moment as she probably realises how easy that is going to be for me, having no shields at all… “Eh, and after that you’ll just feel different waves of mana rolling past you. After that you can go back out and they’ll tell you what they measured. Easy!”

“Okay,” I respond, my curiosity piqued, “But how will that tell them what I can do?”

Lena just shrugs, “Don’t ask me, I’m just the test subject.”

“As you probably know, your mana levels are never at a hundred percent.” Mei jumps in, “So they envelope you with free mana of every kind and measure how much your body absorbs. They repeat this twice and use the amount of mana you absorbed and the difference in the amount between the two times to calculate your overall mana capacity. They can do this since the absorption rate follows pretty constant models, as it is mostly defined by your overall capacity and not something more unique to each person.”

“Sounds easy enough,” I smile, my hands no longer shaky with nerves, “Thanks, you guys.”

After this the conversation falls back into a lull, only occasionally broken when another name is called and we take wild guesses on the abilities of the person walking out. 

Finally, after four or five other people one of us is called. “Olivia Colomar!”

Olivia goes rigid when her name is called and all the eyes in the room fall on her. She gets out of her seat almost languidly, head held high and an enigmatic smirk firmly in place on her face. She turns away from the table without a word and confidently strides over to the door. Her behaviour almost a mirror image of when she entered the bus this morning.

I furrow my brow, it’s so unlike the mischievous girl I got to know during the day. Why is she putting on a mask like this? Curious.

I turn over to Mei, wondering if I should ask her about it. After all she is a lot better with people than I am. But I decide against it, there are too many people of the pointy eared variety here for that kind of personal conversation.

Olivia returns swiftly, and quickly reclaims her seat, a bored look on her face.

“How was it?” I want to know the second her leather clad behind touches the upholstery.

Her face breaks out in a wide, salacious grin, “Wow, you are an eager one. Not even letting me settle in before jumping me.”

My face grows warm, a sure sign of a developing blush. “Sorry,” I apologies, and look away. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m just teasing you… It was fine, just like Mei explained.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I grouse.

“Si, si lo se.” She rolls her eyes, “I guess you want to know how powerful I am?”

All of us nod our heads eagerly.

“Okay,” Olivia shrugs, unperturbed by our interest, “Apparently I’m the most powerful shadow mage in something like ten or twelve generations.”

“What?!” I gasp, my noise of surprise mirrored by similar ones from the other girls at the table. “That’s great!” I shout, forgetting myself in my excitement.

“Eh,” Olivia waves us off. “Not really.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“Porque es verdad…” The violet haired girl sighs, “Shadow magic is basically useless. I can create extra deep shadows, woohoo! Some noble lady no longer has to fear the sun burning her bright complexion.”

Oh come on, I’m sure that shadow magic has plenty of uses.”

“Like?” Olivia demands, staring at me sceptically, one neatly trimmed eyebrow raised.

I hum in thought to buy myself some time as I have never thought about that specific kind of magic. The only thing that I really know about it is that most people consider it one of the dark aligned magical disciplines, reason enough for my parents to keep me as far away from it as possible. 

Though I did hear the delivery boys complaining about those “Damned Shadows” which I understand is one of the major thief guilds in the city, and which relies a lot on shadow magic to steal from the unwary and those running deliveries late at night. But abilities that can be used to rob people and hide from the city guard can also be used for other, better things.

“I guess you’ll be really good at scouting, disrupting the enemy and hiding your team’s movement from them.” I offer after a few moments. 

“Hiding and running, grande! I’m going to be famous for sure.” Olivia sneers. “You know, them saying I’m the most powerful in generations means nothing, nada. Most people with even a speck of shadow magic in their bodies never bother to even apply at one of the magical schools, instead turning to crime.” She braces her elbow against the middle of the table, her hand in the air, palm facing up and fingers touching. With a violet flash from her eyes her hand snaps open, scattering gold coins in every direction.

A fraction of a second later she makes a fist with her fingers, abruptly ending the spell. The coins flying through the air instantly burst into dark purple flame that dissipates in the blink of an eye, only leaving the faint smell of some indistinct flower in the air. 

“El ilusionista del pobres,” The girl says with a sad smile, ignoring our shocked expression at her display of power. “Though, I really shouldn’t complain, at least I get a chance to attend this school, even if I’ll never be remembered.”

She sounds so… defeated, so unlike her perky self.

I put my hand on hers, the one she has dropped listlessly on the middle of the table, and smile at her, “You will be remembered!” I say, with as much conviction as I can, meeting her eyes that still carry a faint violet glow from her display of magic, “Isn’t that right, girls?”

Mei nods, while Lena jumps halfway out of her seat, “Yes! People will want our autographs just because we sat at a table together!” She exclaims excitedly.

Olivia barks out a short laugh and motions for Lena to abandon her awkward stance and get back into her seat. “Gracias chicas,” she says gratefully once her laughter has died down, “Sadly, precedence is against you. There aren’t any legendary shadow mages, and if no one in a few thousand years managed it I doubt that I’ll be the one to break the streak.”

Mei tilts her head to the side, “That can’t be right.” 

“Name one famous shadow mage.” Olivia demands.

For the next few moments I scour my memory, but only draw blanks. I can’t remember reading about a single one of them, not even in passing. Strange, I’ve never noticed how underrepresented they are in literature.

“Wasn’t there this one guy, who had a valley named after him?” Lena finally asks tentatively.

“Valle de las sombras? Shadow Valley?” Olivia questions, receiving a quick nod from Lena. 

She snorts, loudly. “Yeah, no. That guy was a death mage.”

“Then why isn’t it called Death Valley?”

“Because he did such a good job killing that place that not even the sun rays survives the trip down to the desecrated soil, cloaking it in eternal twilight. I’d rather not be famous at all then be renowned for something like that.”

After a moment of sombre silence she speaks again, with genuine smile gracing her lips, “But thanks, I appreciate the thought… I was a bit scared about how you’d take it.” She squeezes my hand that is still placed over hers and pulls it back, her silken fingers drawing warm lines against my palm.

“Huh?” I ask quietly, unsure what she’s talking about. 

“Mi magia… It’s pretty dark.” She adds with a weak, unconvincing chuckle. 

“You were worried that we’d think less of you because you are a shadow mage?” I ask surprised. 

“Si, you are a light mage after all,” She points one of her soft fingers at Mei, “And you have spent a good time at one of the Watchpoints, you probably one or the other shadow demons.” Her finger moves on in Lena’s direction, “And you are… whatever you are. No offence.”

“None taken!” Lena grins, “I’m one of a kind. And I like it that way. Wouldn’t want to sha...”

“We would never!” I interrupt Lena, shooting her an apologetic look, but this is more important. “Magic doesn’t make the person, it is the person that controls the magic. It’s as you said, most people with shadow magic have already turned to crime by your age, but you haven’t, you chose to do something better with your gift, and that makes you admirable.” I say fervently. “All kinds of magic have their good sides… Even death magic can help people. They got these new contraptions at my parent’s hospital which can cleanse tools and clothes using death magic. Ever since they started using them the number of infections has plummeted!”

“How do you know I’m not a criminal?” Olivia smirks at me, “Maybe I’m just here to steal something.” She adds with a wink. 

I just smile back at her, ignoring her attempt to get a rise out of me, just happy that she seems more like herself now, like the girl I met this morning.

“Amélie Lacroix!” 

“A-mé-lie…” Lena whispers dreamily, drawing every syllable out, as if she is feeling out every letter with her tongue. “Even her name is beautiful!”

“What?” I follow her gaze and find it firmly locked on the Drow from earlier, Amélie apparently, who’s currently walking towards the door, her face a stony mask. 

“You do realise that she can hear you?” Olivia asks with a sceptical look. “Their hearing is just as good as an Elf’s.”

“Mhm,” Lena hums, clearly not listening.

We just shake our heads and return to some light gossip about the other new students. 

It isn’t very long before the guy with the French accent calls my name. I excuse myself with a quick wave of my hand and a tight smile and walk out of the hall. Luckily all the other students have already left by this points, as Mei and I are the last to be tested, and so I don’t have to walk out in front of so many eyes. 

The hallway outside the canteen is deserted and my footfalls echo all the way down the long, stone corridor. I ignore the eerie feeling creeping up on me in this cold place and instead focus on the double doors in front of me.

The heavy looking, iron doors yield easily to my push, almost making me overbalance from the amount of strength I’ve put behind my initial move, but I manage to catch myself with an awkward stumble before I trip over my own feet. 

I wince when the door behind me slams closed with a deafening bang.

The room I find myself in is completely barren, no furniture in sight. Though there are two things that don’t match the drab grey colour scheme of the rest of the room. The first one is a white ‘X’ painted on the floor in the middle of the room, which is probably where I should be standing, and the second one is a number of colourful lines criss-crossing all over the opposite wall. 

“Miss Ziegler? Please step on the marked spot.” An ethereal voice suddenly says, seemingly coming from thin air. 

I do as I’m told and come to a halt on the designated spot, feeling strangely exposed in the large room. Though, that might just as well be nerves. I have no idea how strong I am. My parents didn’t deem a check like this necessary. Whenever the subject of magical strength came up they just told me that there is no point in discussing it. That you can’t change your lot and that bragging about something you didn’t earn is not something a proper girl would do.

“For this next step please lower your shields.” The slightly feminine voice requests politely. Another reminder that I’m already lagging behind. My hands grow clammy. 

“Before we start with the first round of tests, are you sensitive to any kind of magic?”

I shake my head, hoping that I don’t have to speak up for them to get my answer.

“Excellent, testing commences in three… two… one…”

While the voice is counting down the lines on the wand start glowing in a multitude of colours, each one signifying a power surge of a different kind of mana. I brace myself as she reaches one and grit my teeth, I doubt that this is going to be fun.

When she reaches the end of the countdown the entire wall lights up with a… glittering, ever changing colour that looks as if it has depth to it. But before I can take a proper look at it the entire wall suddenly races towards me. I stagger half a step back before the wall crashes into me, and passes me by harmlessly, only leaving a slight tingle in its wake. 

Okay, that isn’t too bad.

“Oww,” I grumble through my teeth as the next wave hits, this one a bright, burning red. The fire magic feels scalding against my skin, leaving me with the impression that I’m about to develop a serious sunburn.

It continues like that for the next few moments as wave after wave of magic come crashing down over me, some painful others almost soothing. Until finally the second to last one hits me. I expect the bright white light to feel like home to me, like a warm embrace from my mother, or a summer’s breeze.

So I’m completely unprepared for it to burn worse than the fire magic. I cry out and crumble to my knees, clutching at my chest as I feel something writhing inside of me. The presence bucks and thrashes against my flesh, threatening to burst out of my chest. 

Even with my vision darkening from the pain I'm in I press down on it, fight it, fight the uncaring, endless and completely alien will behind it, knowing in my heart of hearts that something terrible will happen if I let up. 

After a long few moments the pain recedes, leaving me on the floor with my fingers digging painful furrows into the flesh of my torso.

I push myself up on shaky arms and look around myself with vision that still has some black around the edges.

“Miss Ziegler, are you okay?” The voice from before asks, sounding slightly concerned.

I take a moment to breathe and centre myself before I answer with a nod. I’m unsure about what just transpired but pretty sure that I’ll be alright in a few more moments as my vision is already clearing up.

“Mhm,” The voice hums, its invisible owner probably nodding her head. “Okay then… We are sorry for that. We usually ramp the strength of the mana burst up for the types the student claims to possess to facilitate the best possible reading. In your case we might have overdone it a smidgen.”

“Understatement of the year,” I whisper under my breath.

“Are you ready to continue, or do you require a break? We could test Miss Zhou before we continue with you.”

I shake my head and return to the “X” in the middle of the floor. There is absolutely no way that is happening.

“Very well then, before we start with the second set we will do another quick check.” I cringe at hearing that, but still signal them to start.

“Don’t worry, this one will be a lot weaker than the earlier ones,” The voice hastily assures over the building whine from the wall.

When the whining reaches a fever pitch I face the wall and brace myself. You got this Angela. You. Got This!

A heartbeat later the energy bursts forth from the wall like the thick mist London is renowned for. But unlike normal mist this one is of a deep purple colour, and its surface almost seems to boil as it is bearing down on me.

Still, I do not retreat from it, I don’t even look away, not this time. I stand my ground and let it wash over me, let it bath me in its violet light that shines from every swirl and strand.

Surprisingly enough it barely hurts, and the pain that I feel is more like a deep ache in my bones and muscles, a bit like growing pains, the complete opposite of the searing pain of the light magic. 

I breathe a sigh of relief as the last clingy bits of mist pearl of me and vanish into the opposite wall. It might not have hurt that badly, but I’m still a very happy girl that this is done with.

“Excellent,” The voice states, sounding rather distracted. “We’ll just repeat all of this once more and then you can leave.”

Great… I can’t wait. To leave, that is. 

I sigh, and ready myself for another round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriamente | Seriously  
> Supongo que alguien sufrirá una amarga decepción. | I guess someone will suffer a bitter disappointment.  
> Si, si lo se. | Yes, yes I know.  
> Porque es verdad… | Because it's true...  
> Nada | nothing  
> El ilusionista del pobres | The illusionist of the poor  
> Gracias chicas | Thanks, girls  
> Valle de las sombras | Shadow Valley  
> magia | magic


	9. Revelations

Luckily, the second round of tests go by without a hitch, as they really do turn down on the power they throw at me. In fact, not a single one of them elicited so much as a wince from me.

As the last vestiges of power drip of my body I step from one foot to the other, quite unsure what to do now. Should I leave? They did say something about returning to the canteen afterwards.

Before I come to a decision on the matter the voice springs back to life, “Miss Ziegler, please join us in the room to the left of this one.”

With a nod to the empty room I turn away from the enchanted wall and exit the place. 

The long hallway is still as deserted and silent as before. 

I quickly turn to my left and head for the closest door, one that has a giant ‘Employees Only’ painted on its metallic surface, and hope that I’m not about to stumble into a teacher’s lounge or something the like because I misunderstood whose left they meant. 

The door is unlocked and opens easily on well-oiled hinges, revealing what can only be an arcane laboratory to me. The bare, functional walls and tables are covered with dozens of power crystals, glowing sigils, thick leather bound tomes and an entire forest worth of loose paper. Though all of these wonders pale in comparison to the massive Farsight Mirror that takes up an entire side of the room, and which currently shows the interior of the testing chamber. I take a short step closer to the construct, then I shuffle my foot back, too afraid to get closer to the Mirror, worried that my mere presence damages it. 

I’ve read about them in some of my books, mostly only in the history tomes, though I did manage to get my hands on a rudimentary description of their workings during one of my trips to the hospital library.

While the small book, which was little better than an essay, had little to say about the exact runes that are used in its creation, it did describe the overall process pretty well. For the mirror to work it needs to be forged out of a single piece of one of the mystical metals, and then every centimetre of it needs to be carefully inscribed with countless secret runes, a process that can take months, if not years. Afterwards, the arcane smiths take another few weeks to carefully check their handiwork over, as a single faulty rune can cause a catastrophic failure during the powering of the artefact. A failure that, at best, completely destroys the mirror, and at worst kills the smiths and anyone within a hundred metres radius. 

I’m so distracted by this marvel of the arcane arts that I completely miss the three other occupants of the lab that are huddled around a table pushed against the back wall. 

Although, while I missed them, they didn’t miss the sound of the opening door and they all look up at me, their sudden movement alerting me to their presence. I feel myself blush at their attention, embarrassed that they caught me staring at the big mirror like a star struck, little girl.

One of them, a woman with raven hair standing next to Director Prins, smiles at me and beckons for me to step into the room and close the door. “Miss Ziegler, please come in.”

With a conscious effort I move my legs and step further into the room, reluctantly closing the distance between us at her continued, insistent wave, careful not to catch my clothes on any of the artefacts scattered through the space.

“Ah, Miss Ziegler,” The director says jovially, “you gave us quite the scare… Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Sir.” I mumble back, a blush still dusting my cheeks.

“No dizziness?” He digs deeper.

I do my best to smile at him when I shake my head no, hoping to put this behind me as quickly as possible.

“Excellent,” He states happily, then turns to his two colleagues, “Let me introduce you to the Head of the Department for Arcane Research, Madelene Merlo and her assistant Juliana Curtis.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say as I shake their proffered hands.

“And you,” The assistant responds, a big grin on her youthful face. “You gave us a nice little challenge.” Apparently quite happy with this.

“I did?” I ask them, feeling rather uneasy.

The young woman nods vigorously. “Yes, it was pretty difficult to set everything up for that last mana blast. The power lines in the walls aren’t really designed for this kind of stress and we had to make sure that they wouldn’t break down mid-charging, and that doesn’t even touch the danger of a back blow from the capacitor…” The assistant babbles on, only stopping when Madelene puts a hand on her shoulder. The young woman ducks her head shyly at her superior’s touch and starts fiddling with the papers on the table.

I stare at the pair completely unsure what to make of her words. That extra wave didn’t feel any different than the rest of them. So how could it have been so much harder? I clasp my side with my right hand, arm covering my slightly queasy stomach. Is there something wrong with me?

“Please forgive her excitement. She had to test new students for the entire day, and I have to admit that it can get rather monotonous after the first few.” The head of the department excuses.

I just nod in response, pretty certain that she didn’t expect an answer from me. Though, her words do make me wonder, the entire day? So there has to be another group of new students, since we were only asked to arrive at the hall by lunch time.

“But let’s get back to the matter at hand,” The director reminds us, “There is one more person we have to test today.”

With a nod to the director Mrs Merlo selects a sheet of paper from the tall stack on the table and starts her reveal of my results, “As you already know, you possess an affinity for Divine magic. You’re really strong, actually.” She looks up from her paper with an apologetic smile, “Though not Amari level of strength.” She pauses for a short moment and then continues, “But to our surprise you possess a second affinity, which was what caused your reaction to the Divine mana. Sorry for that by the way.” She takes another glance at me over the rim of her glasses, “But there was no way for us to expect that, as dual affinities are actually quite rare, and your type is basically unheard of.” 

I tilt my head, a confused expression on my face. Dual affinity? Me? What? I never showed nor felt any aptitude for anything else but the Light. But… They did say that it was rare. So could it be?

The queasiness grows worse as my stomach twists itself into knots with each further though, and my fingers cramp painfully against my ribs, nails digging half-moon shapes into the pale skin stretched over them.

Do I really have that kind of magic? I mean, I never attempted to cast anything that would use it. It… It just goes against everything my parents told me, my very nature, the very nature of my magic!

Though, it would explain my reaction to the Holy magic. 

I cover my eyes with my other hand, forgetting about the others for a moment.

Damn! It fits too well for it to be anything else.

“The opposite… Death magic.” I say under my breath. Has to be that, it is the enemy of life, of the Light after all.

I sigh heavily and mull it over. Okay, I can deal with this. Death magic does have its uses in the healing arts, I didn’t lie to my friends. Disinfecting, killing parasites and fungus, hell, it can even remove gangrenous flesh with less pain than fire magic!

“Common misconception,” Mrs Merlo interrupts my train of thought as she puts the document to the side. “Death magic is not actually in opposition of Divine magic. They are more like unruly brothers, each needing the other one to exist, but they are still in a rivalry with each other. You see,” She elaborates, her tone of voice dropping into a monotone, “If nothing steps away, nothing new can come into being, and if nothing new is born, nothing can die. So, the reaction between light and death isn’t actually that violent, not like cold and fire for example which are in complete opposition to each other. Life and death… They just squabble for dominance without annihilating each other.”

I feel my brow knit together as I listen to her, my confusion and anxiety growing in lockstep with each other.

If not death, what then? How could something be even more of an enemy to life than death?

The nervous tingling slowly spreads from my stomach to my upper chest, making breathing harder and harder. I try to clear my throat, to dislodge whatever is blocking my windpipe, but nothing moves.

Mrs Merlo turns back to me, having returned the papers to the table, and smiles widely at me, as if to congratulate me, “You, Miss Ziegler, have an equally strong connection to the Void.”

“V-void?” I ask, my voice sounding jittery to my ears.

The older woman doesn’t seem to pick up on my state, or maybe she confuses it with excitement, and just ploughs on, “You might know it better as Fell magic, though I consider that to be a terrible misnomer.”

I can’t tell if she says anything after that as my ears are consumed by a bright ringing sound. A sound that started quietly, but quickly grows to deafening levels as a single thought echoes through my mind. Fell! Fell! Fell! 

Fell… Demon magic. Pure malice, complete destruction, the thing that dreams of snuffing out the last spark and dip all planes into eternal darkness with only the silence of death reigning over the desolate wastelands. 

I try to draw breath, but nothing seems to flow into my lungs.

How could a soul offer sanctuary to such evil. How could it not crumble under its own perverted nature?

My fingers scrabble over my skin in a furious panic, nails digging deep red furrows into my flesh, even through the shield of my shirt, painting pure white with the colour of dying roses. 

“I can’t use that… C-can’t learn that.” I choke out with the last of my breath over the screams of ‘Monster’ and ‘Demon’ in my head.

“I know this might be difficult for you.” The director says gently, his voice echoing strangely, one moment to loud, the other so quiet that I can’t make it out. “But you will have to master Void magic and Holy magic. Training only one side of a dual affinity is way too dangerous as both grow in strength since they share you as their vessel. In a moment of panic control can slip, leaving the untamed but strengthened magic to burst out in a wild storm that can devastate and kill. And even worse, if it grows too much it can form a will of its own… A consciousness of sorts that will manifest as a voice that will whisper to you and slowly draw you into madness. Training only one side is completely out of the question!”

I move my head in a sudden jerk, almost a nod, as panic completely takes me over. I turn on my heel, steadying myself on the table behind me. Then I burst into a run, crashing through the door, sending the heavy metal plate crashing into the wall. 

I don’t hear if the teachers are calling for me, nor do I care if they do. I just run down the corridor leading deeper into the unfamiliar building, my body all the while crying desperately for air that can no longer reach my paralysed lungs.

After a long few moments of blind running I stumble over my own feet and crash onto the hard stone floor. The impact is like a punch to my gut and makes me gasp, filling my burning lungs with much needed air. 

The pain suddenly lightning up my nerves is too much for my crumbling resolve, completely shattering it. I let out a sob that wracks my entire body. 

I pull my knees against my chest as hot, bitter tears start to fall, their splatter against the cold floor sounding like a drum to me, a drum that screams ‘Monster’ with every beat.

For a long time I lay there, dark thoughts swirling through my mind like water around a bleak, hopeless drain. How can this be? Fell… The end of all things. How did I deserve this? I sob freely now, paying no mind to my surroundings, or if anyone is close by.

What’s the point in that anyway? Nothing they could think of me could even come close to the horrible, horrible truth. No man could ever recognise me for the nature-defying monster that I am. Not even my parents could see it.

My parents, my poor parents, that always stood in light’s grace, who always heal people, no matter their status. 

They will disown me, and they are right to do so. 

“Wow, that’s pretty pathetic,” A dulcet voice languidly says, “even for you.”

My addled brain takes a moment to place the voice, but when it does my sobbing comes to an abrupt halt. I shift one of my arms from its place in front of my face, revealing a single eye that stares hatefully at the tall demoness standing before me.

“”Fuck off!” I hiss at the foul spawn of my disturbed mind.

“A girl could really come to think that you don’t like her.” The demoness pouts, her lips the colour of old, dried blood.

“This is all your damn fault,” I roar as a sudden clarity spreads through my mind, “This is all because of you.”

The demoness takes a dainty step forward, bringing her awful heels into view. Then she bends her knee and pushes a few strands of tear-stained hair out of my face with her long, slender fingers.

“You’ve got that wrong,” She tut-tuts, “The egg was first, then came the chick.”

I don’t deign to respond to her use of that platitude, remembering the absolute pointlessness of talking with her. Instead I roll over and face the wall, its life sucking grey colour a way better view than that abomination.

“But that’s not why I’m here,” the demoness continues moments later, “I’m here to give you some good advice.” She puts an uncomfortably hot hand on my shoulder. I’m barely able to stop myself from shrugging her off. That would just anger her and prolong her stay; she usually leaves once she has said her bit.

“You need to listen to your teachers and learn to control your abilities.” I look at her over my shoulder at hearing that, forgetting my intention to ignore her until she gets bored and leaves. “Why? What’s it to you,” I spit at her without thinking. Though I don’t need her to answer my question to uncover her intention behind saying that as moments later it becomes clear to me.

I snort derisively at her, “You just want the Fell to get stronger, Demon!”

She just shakes her horned head, an almost convincing look of concern on her unblemished face, “Your powers will grow anyway, no matter if you use them or not. If you haven’t mastered them by the time they come into full bloom then they will tear you apart.”

“So?” I glower at her, rightfully afraid of how reasonable her words sound. “That should be right up your alley, beast.”

The demoness deepens her crouch, balancing seemingly effortlessly on her brutal stiletto heels, and brings her mouth close to my ear, “You are my anchor!” She states hotly, “And I rather enjoy living. So get yourself together and do what’s needed for our continued survival.” 

She straightens herself and twirls on the toe of her shoe. I gasp from pain as she presses her bloody heel into my back. 

“Get to it, girlfriend!” She hisses. A second later the pressure in my back fades away, just like her presence.

“Fuck you,” I scream through renewed tears and push myself up against the stone wall, the cold flowing from it soothing the stinging in my back to a dull throbbing. 

A while later I’m pulled away from my miserable thoughts by the pounding of feet echoing down the hall. I look down the hall just in time to see a mob of unruly brown hair appearing above the landing of the stairs which is quickly followed by the rest of my newest friend. 

Lena’s face lights up the moment she lays eyes on me, “There you are!” she shouts and slows down to a trot. 

“Damn, Lena, you’re fast!” Olivia answers breathlessly as she too appears at the top of the stairs. She looks over her shoulder and adds, “Mierda, perdimos a Mei.” then her head snaps back towards me and her gaze focuses on me, her eyes taking in my crumbled form, her brows draw together and a dark look passes over her face.

The shadowmancer suddenly puts on a burst of speed and overtakes Lena, almost pushing her into the wall in her hurry, and comes to a skidding stop in front of me. She drops to one knee even before she has stopped sliding on the polished stone floor and puts a hand on the knees that are pressed against my chest. 

“Hey, are you alright?” The girl asks me quietly, her voice holding a trace of something soft.

I hesitate for a moment unsure how to respond to that, but then I shake my head unable to bring anything past the rock that is still lodged in my throat.

Olivia bites her violet lip and looks at me, her eyes roaming my face as if looking for an answer to an unspoken question. “How can I help you,” she finally asks helplessly. 

I turn my head away as I’m no longer able to maintain our eye contact and instead stare at the bright rectangle at the top of the end of the hallway.

This is wrong. Helplessness doesn’t suit her and a monster like me shouldn’t be the recipient of her kind compassion. I have to tell her, them, the terrible truth, everything else would be egotistical to the highest level, but even knowing that I still hesitate. I can already see what telling them would do to them, how their worried expressions and kind smiles would drain away from their face only to be replaced with disgust at the realisation that they broke bread with a- a thing like me.

I almost gasp in fear when Lena’s face suddenly appears way to close in my field of vision and I reel back smashing the back of my head into the hard wall. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Angela!” Lena cries dismayed and flops back onto her butt creating some space between us.

“Maldición, Lena!”

I rub the back of my head and watch as Olivia swats at the clumsy girl’s shoulder and finally find my voice again, “It is okay, Olivia.” I croak weakly. 

Although my words are extremely weak, voice barely above a whisper, they have an immediate effect on the girl and she turns back to me in an instant, her quarrel with her friend forgotten. 

“And you can’t help me,” I sob. Now that I’ve started talking I find myself unable to stop myself, the words rushing from my lips like water down a waterfall.

“No one can help me! I’m a freaking monster… Y-you should get away from me. I don’t want to hurt you guys.”

The tears in my eyes distort their faces but I’m still able to make out their bewildered faces as they try to make sense from my words. Not something that is likely to happen if I don’t tell them everything; no one could expect something like me, after all. 

“Wha-?”

“I’m a demon, I’m Fell.” I drop my head on my knees, all my strength gone with the admission.

I wait like this, steeling myself for their outrage, all the while telling myself that I deserve everything, and more, they throw at me. Tough nothing comes hurtling at me for a long while, the words having left them speechless.

“Eres una hechicera vacía,” Olivia says, shattering the quiet that had spread after my confession.

While I don’t understand her surprised words, I can make a guess at their meaning. I move my head in something akin to a nod.

“So?” Olivia asks with a tilt of her head.

I lift my head and stare at her, speechless. Did she not get what I’m saying? Maybe she confused the words? She isn’t a native speaker after all. I quickly glance over to Lena, but her face too only shows confusion.

“I’m a monster! A force of death!” I cry again, trying to make them understand.

Olivia shakes her head, “No you are not.”

“Yes I am!” I insist hotly. 

“So were your earlier words just lies?” My friend asks, her voice full of hurt.

I rake my brain but can’t find out what she’s talking about, “What words?”

“That I’m not just destined to be a thief or worse because of my magic.”

“What no!” I state aghast. I meant every last word of that.

“So,” Olivia raises one of her neatly trimmed eyebrows, a small smirk on her lips, “If my magic doesn’t automatically make me a criminal, then how come that your magic makes you a monster?”

I shake my head and sigh, why couldn’t she just understand! “Because Fell is pure evil. It can’t do anything good!”

“I doubt that.” Lena interrupts, “Every type of magic can be used to do good, if you just try hard enough.” She tilts her head in thought, “I think you said something similar.”

“And even if,” Olivia continues in Lena’s stead, “even if it is el origen de todo mal, then you can prove your virtue by controlling it and sealing it away in your soul till the end of time!”

She grabs my hands that are wrapped around my folded legs and stares me desperately in the eyes. “You are no monster!” She states with absolute conviction.

Still I shake my head and try to avoid her eyes that burn with a violet light. 

She tightens her grasp on my hands to a painfully level, “Tell me, how many people have you hurt.” She demands, a dangerous undertone in her voice. 

I try to pull away from her, but I can’t escape her burning glare and painful hold, and so I retreat into my mind. I go through my memories one by one and put every moment of my life on a heavily weighted scale. But even so, I barely manage to find anything, any moment I hurt someone. The few times I was a brat as a child barely moved even my own skewed scales into the direction and evil.

Only the one time I did not speak up in defence of the maid during one of my parent’s soirees carried any weight. But even that… I had been thirteen, nowhere near brave enough to stand up to the marshal and tell him that it was his own damn fault that the maid spilled wine over his medal laden lapel.

I shake my head, no, that was not the action of brazen evil but just that of a scared girl.

“Thought so, and now, tell me of all the people you helped.” Apparently she had taken my absentminded head shake for an answer.

“I-I…” I start, then stop. What was I going to say anyways? It’s not like I have anything to dissuade her. So instead I follow her command and think about all the good I did, a task that is far easier than the first one.

I was a regular fixture in the hospital, helping the nurses with the smaller things. I’ve helped the servants in the house whenever my parents held a large party and even staunched the bleeding of a woodcutter once back at our old house. 

Something of my thought process must have shown on my face as I was suddenly interrupted, “See,” Olivia says with a bright smile, “you are no monster!”

I relax my knees, hissing at the sudden tingling pain in my limbs, and look down at our interlaced hands. Could she be right? Do I still have a chance to redeem myself?

“Say it,” She insists, forcing our eyes to meet again.

“W-what?” I ask unsure.”

“Say that you are no monster, and you better mean it.”

I stiffen at her demand. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can!” She smiles, “Let me help you.”

I startle and look down at our linked hands, where warm fingers are drawing soothing circles on the back of my hands.

After a few moments I feel myself relax and a small, fleeting smile appears on my face.

Maybe, maybe, with her help I can do it.

“I-I’m not a… monster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mierda, perdimos a Mei | Shit, we lost Mei  
> Maldición | Damn  
> Eres una hechicera vacía | You are a void sorceress  
> el origen de todo mal | the origin of all evil


End file.
